


Seek to Know No More

by chiiyo86



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Challenge: SPN Big Bang, M/M, Mystery, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-07
Updated: 2011-06-07
Packaged: 2017-10-20 07:25:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 36,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/210221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiiyo86/pseuds/chiiyo86
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen is a transparent – hard to notice, easy to forget, he’s spent his whole life fading into the background. Jared is a psychometrist – he can read bits and pieces of thoughts and memories from people and objects. They had casual sex a few years ago, and when they meet again Jensen is surprised that Jared remembers him. They have sex again, but Jensen is wary of Jared’s ability and generally not very good at relationships. In the meantime, people with abilities are getting killed, a mysterious journalist visits Jensen and Jared, people are following Jensen, Jared has a vision he can’t explain, and everything becomes very complicated and very dangerous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seek to Know No More

Chapter 1

There was a certain routine to Jensen’s life, comfortable and familiar. Waking up, taking a shower, jerking off. Going out for coffee, and smiling at his neighbors’ suspicious looks when he passed them in the staircase. Taking the subway to downtown Manhattan, walking the rest of the way to Beaver & Williams Investigations, and facing Gabe’s morning welcome, “Hey! How can I help you?”

The kid had his feet on his desk, as usual, but had the good grace to take off an earphone to get the answer to his question, letting Jensen hear the muffled rock music coming from it.

“It’s me, Gabe.”

Gabe frowned in confusion. “Me? I’m sorry, sir, but I… Did you have an appointment?”

“It’s Jensen Ackles. I work here.”

Sometimes he had to work more for it, but Jensen could already see the confusion melt away from Gabriel’s eyes, and knew the exact moment when the metaphorical light bulb lit up. “Jensen? Oh, man, I’m…”

“Don’t say it, dude.” It came out a little snappy, and Gabe certainly didn’t deserve that, so Jensen forced a smile. “Not your fault.”

“I know, I know. Just feeling bad about it, you know?”

“Well, don’t. Who’s here today?”

“Traci showed up but left for a job. Williams isn’t here.”

Gabe gave him a pointed look that Jensen chose to ignore. So far, so good, the day wasn’t starting too bad.

“Beaver?” he asked.

“In his office. He…” The phone rang and Gabe answered it with a cheerful, “Beaver & Williams Investigation!”

Jensen stayed a few seconds to see if Gabe was going to tell him something else, but the kid wasn’t even looking at him. It was difficult to say if he was just focused on his phone conversation or had already forgotten that Jensen was standing there, so Jensen shrugged and headed to his boss’ office. He knocked twice, waited a little for an answer, and pushed the door when he didn’t get any. Sometimes people couldn’t hear him knock, and patience wasn’t exactly his forte. Jim Beaver was frowning at some documents on his desk, and raised his head at Jensen’s entrance. “Who the fuck are you?” he groaned, his hand disappearing under his desk, to the drawer where Jensen knew he kept his gun.

That question, right now, was Jensen’s life in a nutshell. If he had a nickel every time he’d heard it. But Beaver was generally better at remembering Jensen, way better than Gabe was, thank God. Either he was particularly preoccupied by whatever was in those documents, or it was the sign that a bad day was starting for Jensen.

“It’s Jensen Ackles, boss. Came to see if you had something for me or if I could go back home and watch porn.”

It didn’t take more than a split second. “Jesus, kid.”

Beaver rubbed his mouth, and for an awful moment Jensen thought he was about to try to apologize too. Jensen was going to tell him not to bother, like he’d done thousands times in his life to just about everyone he’d ever met. “I’m sorry” was right there after “who are you?” in the list of sentences that got on Jensen’s nerves like nails on a blackboard.

But Beaver just snorted and said, “I’ll always recognize your particular brand of smartass, at least.”

“Thanks, boss. I do my best.”

Without waiting for permission, Jensen drew a chair and sat across Beaver’s desk. “So,” he said, crossing his arms. “Anything?”

Beaver was watching him intently, like wanting to relearn his features. People did that sometimes, after they’d forgotten him, and Jensen was used to it but there was something in his boss’ expression – like Beaver was trying to read him, or like he was concerned. Either way, Jensen didn’t like it very much.

“What? Something stuck in my teeth? Do I have lipstick on my face?”

“Shouldn’t you be home? It’s only yesterday that you were attacked, son.”

Jensen bristled. Beaver only called him “son” when he was trying to get all fatherly on his ass. Which, really, was fucking hilarious considering the kind of things he was making Jensen do. Fatherly wasn’t a good look on his boss.

“Just…” _Fucking mind your own business, asshole,_ Jensen was going to say. He bit his tongue and took a deep breath. He’d never kept a job as long as this one, and if he was being honest, he couldn’t say that Beaver was bad to him. He went out of his way to make sure he didn’t forget Jensen’s paycheck, when most of his previous employers had always been fucking happy to use Jensen’s talent for slipping out of people’s minds as an excuse not to pay him. “I’m okay, boss. I got away before they could hurt me.”

“Still, that must have been kind of shock. Did you recognize them?”

Jensen shrugged. “They probably took me for someone else.” He smirked. “Mistaken identity. Happens all the time. Someone as unremarkable as me.”

There was no other possible explanation. Jensen hadn’t been on a job, he’d just been walking back home, minding his own business. And it wasn’t that Jensen had never wronged anyone in his life; God knew that he was often wandering in a morally gray area, but there was at least one good thing about being what he was: wrong rarely came back to bite him in the ass.

“Do you have a job for me or not?”

Beaver sighed. He looked tired. Jensen wondered fleetingly if something was on his mind, but it wasn’t his concern so he didn’t ask.

“No, I don’t,” Beaver said.

Jensen’s eyes narrowed. “If it’s because you think I need time or something, really, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m perfectly fine.”

“If I say I don’t have a job for you, then I don’t. Now get the hell out of my office before I kick your ass.”

Jensen snorted, but stood up anyway. “I’d like to see you try,” he said.

“Would hate to damage that pretty face.”

“Yeah, right. Good bye, boss.”

Jensen closed the door behind him. Gabe was still listening to his iPod, scribbling idly on an envelope. He didn’t even notice Jensen walking past him. Probably didn’t hear the door close when Jensen left. Yeah, it was just like any other day at the office.

\---

Looking down on his half-drunk beer, Jensen let out a loud sigh. He felt on edge, restlessness making his right leg bounce almost uncontrollably, fingers tapping on the counter according to an ever-changing rhythm. He recognized the symptoms, it happened to him from time to time, that itch to do something, anything – and more often than not something _stupid_ , which would have landed anyone who wasn’t like him in jail or in an early grave. He was almost twenty-seven, and contrary to popular belief he wasn’t enough of a moron not to know that there was only so many times he could count on luck and on his talent. He valued life and freedom very much and these days, there were two things he did to take care of his excess energy: working on a job, and getting laid. The first wasn’t an option, since Beaver was denying him today – goddamn him, Jensen wasn’t convinced that it wasn’t some fucked-up attempt to play the good boss – so Jensen turned his back to the bar to have a look at the room.

It was too early for the crowd to be in yet, but there were enough people for Jensen to have decent range of choice. Today, he decided, he would play the second chance game. He started to look closely at faces to see if he recognized anyone he’d already hooked up with, and if they’d left a good enough impression for him to try again. He had an excellent memory for names and faces, rarely forgot anyone he’d met before, which was certainly nature’s twisted idea of a good joke. He wasn’t complaining, though, there was an exhilarating sense of freedom in remembering them when they most probably didn’t remember him, in the fact that he was the one deciding whether to give it another shot or not.

After thirty seconds of scanning the room, he’d spot two potential targets. At a corner table, chatting with a friend, there was a dark-haired girl he remembered from a few months ago. Amy was her name. The clothes she was wearing at the moment didn’t make it obvious, but she had a great pair of tits, with the most sensitive nipples. He remembered her bubbly, endless energy and enthusiasm, and the cute butterfly tattoo on her hip.

Candidate number 2 was sitting at a table close to the door, head bent over an open book and taking notes – studying. Jensen actually raised a surprised eyebrow when he recognized the guy. They’d met one or two years ago, and it wasn’t in New York but in Jensen’s home state of Texas. The kid was a few years younger than him, barely more than a teenager when they’d had an entire weekend of sex and cheap wine. The kid – Jared, if Jensen remembered correctly – had a nice dick and a nicer ass, had seemed like a fun, uncomplicated guy who Jensen wouldn’t mind fucking again. But in spite of the good memories, the coincidence of meeting Jared here after all this time triggered Jensen’s paranoid nature, making him slightly wary.

He threw another look at Amy in the corner – she was laughing at something her friend said, a full on genuine laugh that wasn’t flirtatious, and it was oddly endearing. Plus, her friend was hot too and there was always the possibility he could tempt them into a threesome. Decision made, Jensen slid off his stool and started to walk nonchalantly in the girls’ direction, his beer in his hand.

“Jensen? Hey, Jensen!”

He froze. On the fingers of one hand, that was how he could count the number of times people spontaneously called him by his name when he wasn’t already interacting with them. It just wasn’t something that happened to him. He turned and saw that Jared wasn’t looking at his book anymore but at him, smiling a genuine and surprised smile.

“You remember me? Jared? We, uh, met a couple of years ago.”

“Yeah.” Jensen forced himself to smile and look friendly. “Jared, hey.”

“It’s funny, meeting here – what are the odds, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s hilarious,” Jensen mumbled.

“What did you say?”

“Oh, I just…” Jensen started, but didn’t have the time to come up with an appropriate answer because someone bumped into his shoulder, almost making him spill beer all over himself. It was a frequent enough occurrence in Jensen’s life, and depending on his mood he either ignored the asshole who did it or went into his face. With Jared watching him he couldn’t very well go berserk so he was going to let it go, but was taken aback when Jared called, “Hey, you!”

The offender, a thirty-something guy with glasses and a few days-old stubble, stopped in his tracks and turned, a confused look on his face.

“What, me?”

“Yes, you! You bumped into him and you didn’t even apologize!”

“Him?”

The guy’s eyes fell on Jensen for the first time and widened. “I did? Dude, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Jensen said shortly.

“I just, I didn’t see you, I swear! I don’t know how-”

It wasn’t like Jensen to be self-conscious, but the situation was growing more embarrassing by the second. “I assure you, I’m okay,” he said to the guy, who was still looking at him like he’d grown an extra head. “Have a good one.” He tipped his beer, and the guy broke into a relieved smile, recognizing his cue to leave.

“You too. Sorry again.”

“Yeah, bye.”

“Dude had some nerve,” Jared said, frowning as he watched the man walk away. “He acted like he hadn’t even noticed you.” He seemed to realize that Jensen was still standing awkwardly in front of his table. “Oh, sit down, please, I’ll make room for you.”

Jensen sat in the booth in front of Jared and watched him fumble with his books and notes with growing amusement. Jared was a little broader than the last time they’d seen each other, but he still wore his hair too long and it made him look younger than he probably was. Jensen wondered how he’d tapped that without feeling like a pedophile. His eyes stopped on Jared’s hands gathering the scattered papers on the table – those hands, now, they were adult hands, and Jensen had a flash of how well Jared knew how to use them.

“I’m pretty sure that guy really didn’t notice me, you know,” he said.

Jared raised his head, and his brow furrowed.

“And it wasn’t his fault, either. It’s because of my ability.” Jensen paused for effect. He never could resist being a little theatrical. “I’m a transparent.”

“Oh.” Jared scratched an eyebrow. “I don’t… I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of transparents.”

Jensen shrugged. So much for the theatrical aspect, but he wasn’t particularly surprised. Back when he was still in school he had to carry a paper with him all the time, explaining his condition to teachers and what kind of adjustments they had to make for him. Like it was a fucking disability. But Jared looked so apologetic, Jensen had to take pity on him.

“It’s not common,” he said. “Not many people know about it. I guess it’s also the nature of the beast. It’s like… You know how when you walk in the street, there’re always people who escape your attention? They’re here, but you don’t really pay attention to them.” Jared nodded. “Well, 99% of the time, I’m that guy. People have a hard time noticing me. When they do, they forget me easily. I just slip out of their minds. How well it works depends on people’s sensitivity, and it varies kind of randomly, I’ve never been able to figure it out completely. I don’t have much control over that kind of thing.”

“Damn. I guess I was kind of an asshole to that guy, then.”

Jensen smirked. “I guess you were. It was cute, though, you defending my honor like some white knight in shining armor. I’m flattered.”

Jared blushed faintly, and it made Jensen grin wider.

“Alright, laugh at me, you fucker,” Jared said. “I guess I was trying to impress you and got overenthusiastic. Very twelve-year old girl of me, right?”

“I left you that good of a memory?”

“It was certainly a good weekend. But I was only twenty-one, so I was probably a little too impressionable.”

“Whereas now you’re so much older and wiser?”

Jared combed a hand through his hair, head tipped back, watching Jensen with open interest. “Hmm, I don’t know. Maybe not that much wiser.”

He smiled confidently, and with that heated look in his eyes, the way he bit his lower lip, he didn’t look so young anymore. Jensen had a last look for Amy and her hot friend – _not tonight, sweetheart_ – and took a sip of his beer, before slamming it down on the table. He wasn’t one to procrastinate for too long.

“Wanna go to my place and fuck?” he said.

Jared let out a startled chuckle. “Who could refuse such a sweet offer?”

“Is that a yes?”

Jared smiled. “I think I need a break from studying. Just give me a minute to pack my stuff.”

\---

The way Jared was glued at his side all the way to Jensen’s place, never more than a few inches away and his hands twitching against his sides, Jensen thought that he’d have to fight off his attentions before they made it to the apartment, and there were few things he hated more than having someone hanging all over him when he was trying to unlock his door. The kid had some self-control, though, because he held on until they were in and the door was closed to slam Jensen against the wall and devour his mouth.

Jensen opened up for him, curled a hand at the back of his head and made him deepen the kiss. He’d forgotten that Jared was a little taller than him, and being pressed chest to chest like this made it deliciously obvious. Jared’s big hands were roaming over his shoulders, his sides, his hips, sliding under his shirt for some skin-to-skin contact. Jensen moved his hips forward to encourage the touch of warm fingers on his stomach, to rub against his crotch against Jared’s – they spent a minute like that, just grinding mindlessly against each other, grunting and panting. Until Jensen decided they were way too dressed for that shit and pushed Jared away enough to take off his shirt.

Jared looked at him, breathless, before taking the hint and starting to peel off his clothes in such a hurry that he almost stumbled on his jeans.

Jensen chuckled. “Easy, tiger. We’re gonna get there, don’t worry.”

“Ha ha. Where’s your bed, asshole?”

Jensen took a step forward and slipped a hand into Jared’s boxers to grab his dick, making Jared gasp. He smirked, satisfied, took his hand out and brushed against Jared’s side before turning away. “Follow me.”

He crossed the living room straight to his bedroom, not looking back to see if Jared was following him, knowing he would. When they entered the room Jared walked past Jensen to launch himself on his bed like a ten-year old. He pushed himself up on his elbows and had a look around.

“Not so big on furniture, huh?” He lay back on the bed and spread out, opening his legs and pressing his hand between them. “Nice bed, though.” He raised an eyebrow at Jensen. “Gonna come closer or do I have to get myself off?”

Jensen didn’t waste anytime replying and went to kneel over Jared, straddling his hips, leaning forward to resume their kissing. He didn’t let it last too long before leaving Jared’s mouth for his jaw, his neck, his chest, kissing and licking all the way down, sucking on the heated skin. He glanced up from time to time, enjoying the way Jared’s breathing deepened and quickened. He finally found himself with his nose against Jared’s crotch and raised his head to look at Jared, all flushed and panting.

“What do you say?”

“I don’t know, I think I feel like knitting, right now.”

“Your loss,” Jensen said, before giving a kiss to Jared’s cock, sticking out enough tongue to wet the fabric of Jared’s boxers. He laughed as Jared’s hips jerked up, and proceeded to slide his underwear off him. He took hold of Jared’s dick, licked around the head, teasing, and at Jared’s muffled _fuck_ , he took him in his mouth and started sucking.

Jensen was bobbing his head up and down, finding a rhythm, when he felt a hand on his head and he took his mouth off Jared’s cock.

“Uh huh,” he said. “No hands, dude.”

“Um, sorry.” Jared grimaced. “I did the same thing last time, right?”

“Just don’t do it again if you don’t want me to break your nose,” Jensen said, smiling to show he was joking. Mostly.

He bent his head down and his lips slid again over the head of Jared’s dick, his tongue curling around. The hand was back on his head and he pulled off, hissing in irritation.

“Sorry, sorry. Wanna, wanna suck you too.”

Jensen had been about to snap at Jared, but how could he say no to _that_? There was a moment of fumbling around until Jensen had his head between Jared’s legs, straddling Jared’s head. Heat engulfed his cock and he stifled a groan, before going back to sucking Jared. He started humming a little, knowing how good it would feel. Jared sucked harder.

They went at it until Jared’s mouth left Jensen to issue a warning, “Jen, gonna come!”

Jensen pulled off, took Jared’s dick in his hand and jacked him off until it stopped twitching. Jensen was about to ask Jared to do the same for him, but Jared’s hand was already on him and Jensen was coming quickly. When he was done he rolled off Jared and on his back, staying there for a moment, looking at the ceiling and catching his breath.

“Well,” Jared said after a moment. “That was nice. I hope your recovery time isn’t too bad, grandpa, because I came here in the hope of getting fucked.”

Jensen raised and threw his legs out of his bed, flipped him off. “Ask for a fucking refund.” He looked down at him. “I have your come on my shoulder. I hate that.”

Jared laughed, and his fingers started to play with some of Jensen’s come that was on his chest.

“I don’t know how anyone could forget you,” he said.

There was a weird look on his face that Jensen chose to ignore. “Actually, it’s kind of weird that you didn’t. You must be really insensitive to my talent.”

Jared shrugged and wiped his hand absentmindedly on Jensen’s sheets. “Maybe it’s because I have an ability of my own. I’m a psychometrist.”

“I don’t know, I’ve met people with abilities before. It didn’t seem to matter.”

“Anyone in your family?”

Jensen really needed something to wipe off that shit on his shoulder. He went to his bathroom to find a box of tissue, took out a few and threw the box to Jared.

“Thanks,” Jared said, and started to clean himself up. “My brother is a telekinetic. Now, _that_ ’s some cool shit. Who doesn’t want to be able to move things with the power of their minds, right?”

Jensen smiled wryly. “Guess grass is always greener on the other side of the fence. I’ve always thought that transparency fucking sucked, but I’m sure there are shittier abilities.”

“So, no one else in your family has one?”

“Nope, I’m the only freak. There was a psychometrist in my school, though. He was a fucking attention whore, too. Always being a drama queen about the things he saw when he touched stuff or people. ” Jensen frowned. “Hey – I know not all the psychometrists are the same, but… please tell me you’re not one of those who can read people?”

He was feeling so uncomfortable at the thought that he took a step back, even knowing that Jared wouldn’t be able to read him if they weren’t touching. But God, they’d done a _lot_ of touching. He felt a surge of anger, feeling tricked that Jared hadn’t told him earlier, not at the bar, not when they’d met two years ago.

“Uh, well, yes, I can,” Jared said.

“You _can_?” Oh, Jesus, he felt sick. What could have Jared seen from him? “And you didn’t think about warning me? Fuck, Jared, you know what privacy means? Didn’t it occur to you that maybe I wanted you out of…”

“Hey!” Jared sat up on the bed. “Chill out, man! Yes, I can read people when I touch them, but I learned how to control that ages ago. If I don’t focus on it I don’t see anything, unless it’s something really strong. I didn’t get anything from you.”

“Oh.” Jensen’s hand went through his hair. He breathed in and out, letting the anger fade away. “Sorry. I overreacted.”

“It’s okay. I’m used to it. A lot of people are uncomfortable at the idea of being read. I can’t say I don’t understand why.” He stood up, grinned and opened his arms. “Now, what does a guy have to do to get something to eat in this dump?”

\---

Jensen was watching Jared munch happily on his ham and cheese sandwich, sitting on the counter top in Jensen’s kitchen. They’d both put shirts and boxers back on, which Jensen regretted as he would have gladly kept ogling Jared’s naked body, but they’d had to surrender to the cool temperature in his apartment.

“Not hungry?” Jared swallowed his bite. “You’re not going to eat anything? I’m always fucking starving after sex.”

“I’m good.”

Jensen wasn’t about to admit that he had this weird hang-up about people watching him eat. It’d been a very long time since he’d shared a meal with anyone. He was thirsty, though, so he went to the cupboard above Jared’s head to get a glass. He raised his arm to reach it; his elbow brushed against Jared’s shoulder and Jensen instinctively jerked away from the contact. He glanced, hoping that Jared hadn’t seen anything. No such chance: Jared stopped eating and cleared his throat.

“Look, Jensen – I understand that it’s making you uncomfortable, but this is ridiculous.”

“Hey, you can’t blame me for wanting to keep my mind to myself! It’s fucked up, you seeing things people don’t want to share.”

Jared’s eyes narrowed. He looked more than annoyed, now, working his way to angry. He pressed his lips together and put down his sandwich next to him on the counter top.

“It’s rich, coming from a guy who makes people forget him. I’d say that’s pretty fucked-up too,” he said.

“I don’t _make_ people forget anything. They just do.”

“And I don’t crack open people’s minds to extract their darkest secret. I just see stuff, sometimes, and like I already said most of the time I don’t see anything if I don’t try – which I don’t.” Jared sighed. “I’m not going to apologize for what I am.”

Jared was looking at him, all earnest and shit, and Jensen felt on about the same level as someone who kicks puppies and drowns kittens for fun. He repressed a twinge of annoyance. “Okay, I got it, I’m an asshole,” he mumbled.

Jared grinned. “See? I don’t have to use my ability to see your darkest secret.”

Jensen forced out a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I deserved that, I guess.”

“Probably. But if it makes you feel better you’re not the first person to act like that with me.”

“Thanks, I’m glad to know that I’m on the same level as the common jerk.”

“You’re welcome.”

Jared picked up his sandwich. Jensen got a glass and poured himself some water, sipped it slowly, willing himself to stop feeling so self-conscious. He felt awkward, like he was in _Jared_ ’s kitchen and had broken his favorite mug or something. Like he was caught in a spotlight instead of fading into the background as usual, and it made him want to resume his childhood habit of chewing on his fingernails. Jared didn’t seem mad anymore – not that Jensen was sure why he should care – but Jensen still found himself trying to think of a way to make him leave. He never usually had to work much to get rid of people, and it unnerved him that he didn’t know how to handle the situation.

A ringtone interrupted his thoughts.

“Oh.” Jared lowered his sandwich. “I think it’s mine.”

He dropped from the counter top and bolted through the living room to their scattered clothes. “Hey, what’s up?" he answered his phone. "Now? No, I can…” His eyes flickered to Jensen. “I’m available. I’ll be there in forty minutes, an hour tops. Okay, bye.”

“Problem?” Jensen asked.

“Um, no, it was the police.”

Jensen lifted an eyebrow. “And that’s not a problem?”

“Oh, I’m not in trouble, it’s just for work.”

Dread turned Jensen’s mouth dry. That didn’t sound good. “You… You’re a cop?” _Please say you’re not._

“Ah, no. I just consult for them sometimes.” Jared wriggled his fingers. “I use my special talent to help them in their investigations. I figure I have this thing, I should make use of it to help.”

“Huh.” Now that was something that had never occurred to Jensen. He’d always worked around his ability rather than with it, and while it could be argued that his current job made use of his transparency, him and Jared were definitely on opposite sides of the legal fence. “Well, that’s… awesome, I guess. So they need you now?”

“Yeah. Raincheck on that second round? I was looking forward to it.” Jared looked sincerely regretful, like their fight hadn’t happened at all.

“Sure,” Jensen said, not meaning it. If Jared’s psychometry wasn’t enough, his association with the police was certainly a powerful reason to put Jared on the “shit you don’t want in your life” list.

Jared got dressed quickly, smiled goodbye and was gone, leaving the apartment weirdly quiet. Before Jensen could relax in his recovered solitude, his own phone rang. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore it for a few seconds, but the noise wouldn’t stop; so, cursing under his breath, Jensen kneeled down and went through his jeans’ pockets to find the annoying ringing device. “Yeah?”

“Looks like you’re gonna have what you want, kid,” Beaver’s voice grumbled in his ear.

“Is it a pony? Tell me you finally got me a pony.”

“Next time. Today, I have a job for you.”

 

Chapter 2

Jared didn’t have any trouble finding what he was looking for: the circle of policemen and concerned bystanders, the busied frenzy of forensics taking pictures, looking for prints and hair and whatnot, of detectives coaxing frightened neighbors for statements. They were all gathered in front of a one-storey, light-blue house that looked deceptively boring and suburban. Jared’s eyes looked around at the crowd until he found _who_ he was looking for.

“Hey! Hey, Misha!”

The man he was calling raised his head and smirked, an expression so typically Misha that Jared was left with no doubt as to who he was dealing with. It was a relief, he had to admit even if only to himself. To normal people they were all freaks, those of them who had special abilities, and it was easy to lump them all together in one big freaky group. It wasn’t quite like that in reality – Jared knew he was _different_ , but Misha? He was another matter entirely. Jared would never breathe a word about it, he was so ashamed of his thoughts; he suspected Misha was aware of them, though.

“Hey, Jared. About time,” Misha said.

He smiled at a policeman in uniform, gesturing to him to let Jared go under the yellow plastic band. Jared felt the stares of people rake over his back as they wondered who he was and why someone so young was allowed on the crime scene. Speaking of crime – Jared’s eyes quickly found the body. She was lying on her back, her long brown hair scattered around her head. She looked sixty, maybe younger – it was difficult to say with the way her face was an unnatural blue, marked with red spots, and her tongue sticking out of her mouth, obscenely swollen. A year ago, when Jared had just started working with the police, he wouldn’t have been able to look at her for more than a few seconds. Now, he just swallowed and forced his eyes to travel over the body, noticing that her arms were hidden under her back.

“Her arms are bound,” Misha said.

Jared raised his head sharply. If he weren’t sure it was Misha he was talking to, he would have thought that the man was reading his thoughts. Unless Misha had always lied about the way his ability worked, which Jared wouldn’t put past him. It made him uncomfortable. He liked Misha well enough, he was a fun guy, but he couldn’t overcome that lingering discomfort.

“What caused her death?” Jared asked, trying to sound professional and probably failing.

“Come closer.”

Misha waved a hand in the direction of the victim’s head. Jared bent forward to have a closer look. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

There was a rope around the woman’s neck, the rest of it resting next to her head where Jared hadn’t been able to see it before from his angle. It had been cleanly cut, probably with a knife.

“We had to cut her down.” Misha pointed up, to the tree branches above their heads. “She was hanged, her hands bound behind her back. I’m no profiler but I’d say it looks like she was executed. Punished.”

“Shit. Punished for what?”

Misha shrugged. “Who knows?”

“Who lives there?” Jared pointed a thumb above his shoulder.

“She did,” someone said from behind him.

Jared turned, putting on a greeting smile. “Hey, Malik.”

“Hey, kid. Come to do your boy wonder thing? Too bad I forgot to bring popcorn.”

“Ha. Haven’t you got enough of us freaks with Misha?”

As he said that, Jared glanced to Misha, but the man just snorted and smiled. “So,” he said, with a jerk of the chin to Malik. “This is our victim’s house?”

“Jane White, fifty-five.” Malik had a wallet in his hand and was squinting at it. “I also think I know why she could have been ‘punished.’”

He looked at Jared, then at Misha; Misha groaned. “Let me guess. She was an ‘anomaly.’”

His fingers traced invisible quote marks in the air and his lips curled in derision. Jared flinched instinctively at the word. This official term, this was the thing that bound them all together, as different as they were. It wasn’t always a good thing to share.

“She had the right papers for it. Shit, that doesn’t sound good. So soon after Aaron Mills’ death…”

“Wasn’t Mills an accident?” Jared said.

“That’s the best guess. Not gonna keep all kinds of people from talking.”

“What was her ability?” Misha asked.

“Good question.” Malik frowned, rubbed a hand over his shaved head. “I’ve never heard of this one. I thought I knew enough on the subject, but I have no idea what the fuck this is.”

“Because I’m your partner?” Misha said, an eyebrow up. “I can’t transfer knowledge by breathing the same air as you do, you know. There’re hundred of abilities, you’d risk overheating. C’mon, Whitfield, let me see.”

Misha didn’t wait and snagged the wallet from his partner. He was silent for a few seconds, then frowned in an expression so similar to Malik’s that it was almost funny. “Fuck me, I don’t know about this one either.” He handed the wallet to Jared. “You?”

Surprise made Jared open his mouth, before he snapped it shut, hoping he hadn’t looked too stupid. They’d never asked for his opinion before, not if it wasn’t related to his psychometry. He looked at Jane White’s card, the same small plastic card they all carried. There was Jane’s name, her birth date. Two numbers, on a scale from one to ten: one number referred to how much harm she could do to other people, the other to how much adjustment she needed to lead a ‘normal’ life, whatever that meant. She was a 4/7; Jared was a 3/3 – about as normal and harmless as they could get, at least if you believed the numbers. But it was the word under the ‘ability’ category that made his brow furrow.

“Huh. I know this one. I just met someone like that today.”

“You did?”

Jared nodded absently, still looking at the card. What a strange, strange day, he mused. He’d spent his whole life ignorant about the existence of transparents, and now he’d met two in the same day.

\---

Crouched next to the body, Jared closed his eyes. He didn’t really need it to work out his ability, but he’d found that it helped him focus and ignore the stares burning into the back of his head. Psychometrists weren’t exactly uncommon and a lot of them helped the police, but nothing seemed to detract people’s curiosity. He could hear the whispers coming from the crowd, sense the excited tension as they waited for him to do something out of the ordinary. Jared reached out and touched Jane White’s face.

He’d been told that on the outside, it looked like nothing special. If he had his eyes open, he stared blankly into nothing for a few seconds, and didn’t hear it if his name was called. There was no shaking, no screaming, no flashes of lightning – the people watching him right now were going to be disappointed. Once a friend of his parents who was a doctor had told them that it looked like he was having absence seizures; and damn if it hadn’t freaked the fuck out of his mom and dad. That was why he’d never really explained that on the inside, the experience was a lot more earth-shattering than it looked.

When it still happened randomly, it had felt like he’d been in a dark room and someone suddenly turned on the light. It just was there until it wasn’t anymore, and it wasn’t only visual – noises, smells, emotions, he never knew what was going to strike him and take his brain hostage. Now that he could control it, it was a bit different. He looked into himself and let it go – he normally didn’t have the feeling that he was doing anything that required a particular effort, but when he used his psychometry he was always overwhelmed first by a surge of relief, like he’d been holding his breath without realizing it. Then he could feel it rushing to him, whatever it was, slower than he remembered from his childhood. It was like being tied up to the rails and watching the train coming at him. For some time, a second or an eternity, he didn’t belong to himself anymore.

And it was happening right now.

There was fear and pain, and he was choking, feeling the life being drained out of him. It was chaotic and fragmented, no visual, so he dismissed it with a conscious effort; it was just the victim’s last impressions, too tainted with confusion and surprise to be of any use. Something else was coming and he braced himself for it. White walls, he was tied to a bed. He was afraid, but also resigned, as he knew that there was no way out. “ _Welcome back,_ ” said a voice. He would have screamed and spit out his hatred if he had any energy left. The image dissolved and he was left with a feeling of coldness. It wasn’t something physical, more like someone was watching over his shoulder and contemplating whether his existence was worth more than a bug’s.

“Jared?”

Jared opened his eyes. It was over. He was feeling tired and detached but Misha was looking at him expectantly, pen up and notebook in his hands.

“Huh, um.” Jared rubbed his eyes. “There wasn’t much. A room with white walls, kinda like a hospital room. But she was tied up. Someone said ‘Welcome back.’ It was blurry, though – an old memory, from way before her death.”

Malik frowned, rubbing his chin with his thumb. Misha was scribbling on his notebook.

“Just a random memory?” Malik said. “How did you get to it then? I thought you didn’t read minds.”

There was something faintly accusatory in his tone, like he was wondering if Jared had been misleading them. Or maybe Jared was just being oversensitive – it had been known to happen after he’d made use of his ability, everything still raw and grating.

“I don’t,” he said. “I just pick up the bits floating on the surface. This memory isn’t irrelevant; it has a reason to be there. It could be related to the murderer.” Jared sighed, resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. “But it could just be the last thing that flashed through Jane White’s mind before she died.”

“Was there anything else?” Misha asked.

“Yeah, there was… cold. A presence. I don’t think it came from Jane, it was someone else, an imprint.” Practice had taught him how to be sensitive to the difference, and that last feeling had definitely been distinct from the previous blurry memory.

“Great,” Malik said sarcastically. “Now we know that someone cold murdered that poor woman. That’s fucking progress.”

Jared glared at him, but he knew enough not to take it personally. Malik was frustrated; he always was at the beginning of a murder investigation, wanting to have his hands on the killer already. Misha snapped his notebook shut and clapped on his partner’s back.

“Come on, Grumpy, time to let the kid go back home and do the job you’re paid for.”

“Anything for that fat pay check.” Malik eyed Jared for a moment. “You okay to go home, kid?”

“Yeah.” Jared stood up, and promptly proved himself wrong by swaying on his feet. “I’m okay,” he said quickly, raising a hand to prevent any help attempt.

“You look okay,” Malik said. “Doesn’t he look okay, Collins?”

“He does,” Misha said. “He looks positively radiant.”

“That’s the word I was looking for! Radiant.”

“Ha ha,” Jared said. “I’m leaving you to your stand up comedy act, and I’m going back to my apartment take a nap.”

He turned his back on them, not waiting for another sarcastic reply. He was too tired to reflect on what he’d seen, to think about anything, really, but in the midst of the white noise drowning any other thought, Jensen suddenly popped up in his mind. If Jane had been like Jensen - hardly seen, easily forgotten - who could have wanted to kill her?

\---

Jared unlocked his door and walked through his living room, leaving shoes and jacket in his stride, not stopping until his shins hit the edge of his bed and he could collapse onto it. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again his alarm clock told him that he’d slept for two hours.

Feeling reenergized, he jumped out of his bed and went to take a shower. He let the water run down his body, enjoyed the pleasant warmth and the simplicity of it. He didn’t feel drained anymore, only weary, like at the end of a long day – and it’d been quite a long day. Psychometry always took a toll on him, and it’d taken him years before he learned to say no and stopped using it as a party trick. After his shower he went back to his studying, feeling a twinge of guilt that he’d abandoned it for the allure of sex when he had two midterms coming the next day.

School and his job at the campus library kept him busy for the rest of the week, and it was Saturday before both Jane White and Jensen came back to him. He got a text from his sister: _Fucking tequila. Never again. Hope you’re okay. Love you._ He chuckled after he finished reading; nothing unusual, Meg was always random like that. _Happy hangover day_ , he wrote. _Got laid the other day. Hot, hot guy._ Megan didn’t answer right away, so she must have fallen asleep. He fiddled with his phone for a moment, thinking about calling Jensen until he remembered he didn’t have his phone number. He pondered if it would be wise to pay him a visit – they didn’t part in the best terms and there was some potential for awkwardness there. There was the matter of Jared’s psychometry, but something else had seemed to bother Jensen before Jared had left, though he wasn’t sure what exactly. Probably Jensen wouldn’t want to see him, let alone have sex with him again.

He was almost set on not going out, on watching some TV instead and chilling out, maybe jerk off thinking about Jensen’s lips on his dick, but when he turned the TV on, it was the news, and it was about Jane White’s murder. A guy from the FACC was talking, some kind of general with a long face, whose name Jared couldn’t remember at the moment – but it didn’t matter because then they switched to Jane White’s picture. With her eyes open, her face a normal color and a smile on her lips, she looked so different he barely recognized her. He hadn’t let himself think about her too much but seeing her like that, alive and seemingly happy, tugged painfully at his heart. He couldn’t pretend he understood the first thing about transparency, the same way that people didn’t really understand psychometry unless they were psychometrists themselves. But the idea that the first time Jane White had been seen, had been remembered, was in death, made him mourn this woman he’d never known.

Before he knew it he was already up and looking around for his keys, which took him a while as he had to dig around through clothes, books and magazines, old pizza boxes. He left his apartment and forty minutes later he was standing in front of Jensen’s door and thinking about what an idiot he was. What the fuck was he doing here? Sure, Jensen was hot and Jared didn’t feel any shame admitting that he wanted to jump the guy’s bones again. He was also intrigued, by Jensen’s ability, by what kind of man such a talent could produce, and he was more embarrassed by _that._ Jensen wasn’t a freak, the same way Misha wasn’t – none of them were. Jensen was just… _interesting._

He was raising his hand to knock on the door when it opened, leaving Jared hanging with his fist stupidly raised in the air. Jensen was looking at him with an eyebrow arched, his head and shoulders thrust between the door and the doorway.

“Huh, hi?”

“What do you want?” Jensen winced, and he smiled faintly. “That didn’t come out right, did it?”

“I shouldn’t have come. Sorry. I just… Hey, how did you know I was there?”

“You make enough noise to pull the dead out of their graves. I used my super _hearing_ power.”

“Oh. Sorry, I guess. For all the dead people who I’m sure are stashed in your living room.”

“Well, now you’re here, so. Don’t stand there like a giant bean sprout. Come in.”

Jensen stepped back to let Jared come inside. He was wearing a black tee-shirt and jeans, and his hair was damp, like he’d just come out of the shower. Looking down, Jared noticed that he was barefoot.

“Enjoying the view?”

Jared felt the heat go to his cheeks, embarrassed that he’d been caught staring. He wasn’t a shy guy but there was something about Jensen that made him feel like he was twenty-one again, like he’d been the first time they’d met, in awe that a hot older guy was taking an interest in him.

“The view is pretty,” he retorted, trying his most confident grin. “Too many clothes, though.”

Jensen laughed. “You’re not so bad yourself, Casanova.” He waved at the couch. “Have a seat. Beer?”

“Now you’re reading my mind.”

Jared sat and when Jensen came back with two beers, they both took several sips before Jensen cleared his throat.

“So, why did you come? I would be surprised that you remembered the address but it seems you’re impervious to that particular talent of mine.” He slumped on his seat and opened his legs wider, canting his hips and smirking.

Jared swallowed the beer in his mouth, careful not to choke on it. “Yeah, one of your talents, at least. Well, to be honest I don’t have a good excuse. It’s just that… Something happened.”

Jensen straightened up, looking more serious. “What happened?” He frowned. “And what’s it have to do with me?”

“You remember that call I got before I left your apartment?”

“Yeah. The cops.”

“A woman was killed, and she… she was a transparent.”

Jensen looked surprised for a moment, then confused, lips pursed in a way that was a little distracting. “I still don’t get what this has to do with me. It’s not like we’re all related or something. In fact, I’ve never met another one in my life.”

“Really?”

Jared had met other psychometrists several times, and remembering the kinship he’d felt when he had, he felt a pang of pity that Jensen had never experienced the same thing. But he hid it as well as he could, because he didn’t think that Jensen was the kind of guy who’d appreciate the sentiment.

“Yeah, I don’t know, maybe I did and I forgot it, but I don’t think so.”

“Okay. It just made me think of you and thinking of you brought me to your doorstep. Also, I was wondering about something. How…” He paused, trying to think of the best way to word this. “Isn’t it strange that this woman was murdered, given what her ability was? The way she died… She wasn’t mugged or anything like that. It was intentional. She would have needed to really stick to someone’s mind to get that kind of death.”

“I don’t know. If she’d done something that made someone sufficiently angry, they would make sure they didn’t forget her. Writing notes, taking pictures. We’re not ghosts. It’s possible, with enough discipline and obsession. Providing that person knew about her ability beforehand, of course.”

“Speaking from experience?”

Jensen flashed him a smile. “I have a way with people. Sure, it would be hard to do. But people’s sensitivity varies, and…” Jensen looked pointedly at Jared. “There’s you. You’re apparently insensitive to my transparency. If you can do it, who says someone else can’t?”

“Good point. As much as I would like to consider myself unique.”

Jensen snorted and took a sip of his beer. “So, what do you do, you know, when you’re not working for the police?” The last word came with a grimace.

“I’m a student,” Jared said.

“Oh, nice. What’s your major?”

“I’m doing a masters in Social and Cultural Analysis at NYU. I, uh,” Jared trailed off, “I study the way people with abilities are integrated in society.”

He wasn’t surprised when his declaration was met with Jensen’s raised eyebrows. “Really? I didn’t know you could study _that_ , but then I didn’t go to college so what do I know?”

“It’s a new program.”

“I bet.” Jensen took another sip of his beer. “So what does it mean concretely? You study the way society fucks us over?”

Jared winced, and let out a chuckle. “Well, kinda, yeah. I study the way abilities are categorized and evaluated, how the FACC determines the restrictions we are subjected to and what it says about the accepted norms of human interactions, how people with abilities kinda fucked over a lot of things that were taken for granted… That kind of thing. For instance, how people with psychic-based abilities, like mine, are forcing society to redefine personal boundaries.”

“It doesn’t look like they’re redefining shit, though; they’re just restricting us. What are the restrictions for being a psychometrist, by the way?”

“Of all things, I can’t be a doctor, or a nurse, because I would have to touch people a lot. But I can work in law enforcement.” Jared shrugged. “It seems arbitrary at first glance, but it’s really interesting to study and try to understand the logic behind it. I’ve never read anything about transparency, though, do you have any restrictions?”

“Yeah, of course. Like, I can’t handle money, because it’s difficult to check whether a transparent is stealing from the cash register. But that’s just on paper – in reality I do whatever I want, ‘cause who’s gonna enforce that shit, right?” He raised both arms. “I’m thin air.”

“Yeah, I guess it would be difficult. I’ve also done some research on people with abilities before 78 and the Mills article on Desert Camp. But it’s hard to have any reliable documentation on it, and to separate reality from lore. People like us were in hiding, keeping their abilities for themselves like dirty secrets.”

“Is it that different now? I mean, you didn’t tell me you were a psychometrist.”

Jared narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t tell me you were a transparent either, the first time we met.”

Jensen snickered, tipped his beer. “Touché. Proving my point, though.”

“Okay, you got me,” Jared said. “But enough about me. What do you do for a living? Must be hard to keep a job.” Jensen stiffened visibly. “If… you don’t mind me asking. Um.”

Jensen’s lips were pressed together in a thin line, and Jared felt bad for asking. For all he knew, maybe Jensen was unemployed. Maybe he actually couldn’t keep a job and it was a touchy subject. _Way to go, Jared._ He opened his mouth to apologize and withdraw his question, but Jensen was quicker.

“I work for a private investigation agency,” he answered.

“Oh, really?” Now Jared was puzzled. That didn’t sound so bad; it was pretty cool, actually. “That’s kind of awesome,” he said.

Jensen’s lips curved into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s not like in the movies, you know. It’s pretty boring, in fact. Lots of following around husbands whose wives suspect they’re cheating on them. And then waiting and taking pictures.”

“Spying on sex?” Jared wriggled his eyebrows, knowing it looked ridiculous.

Jensen’s smile widened, more genuine, and Jared felt accomplished.

“It happens,” Jensen said. “Disappointing, most of the time.”

Jared couldn’t help but bark out a laugh, drawing Jensen into a chuckle.

“So, I’m still surprised you came here,” Jensen said, once their hilarity had subsided. “I was kind of a dick to you last time.”

He paused and looked at Jared. Changing the subject, Jared thought. Interesting. It reinforced his feeling that Jensen was lying to him for some reason, but whatever. He was neither a cop, nor Jensen’s mom; Jensen’s secrets were his own. “Yeah, you were an asshole alright.”

Jensen’s mouth twisted and he looked down, his thumbnail scratching at his beer bottle’s label. Jared waited for the word “sorry” to come, but it didn’t. Jared figured it was the only kind of apology he was going to get and he shrugged. “Whatever, I’m used to it. I make people feel uncomfortable. Most of the time, they eventually come around.” He grinned. “It’s my charming personality.”

“You came here hoping I had come around?”

“I don’t know. Have you?”

Jensen’s eyes were avoiding his. “You tell me you can’t see anything unless you try. I believe you.”

It didn’t sound like Jensen was fully convinced. Maybe he didn’t trust Jared not to try without his consent, and even though he didn’t know the guy so well and having sex a couple of times over the course of two years didn’t make for any kind of relationship, it still hurt a little. Plus, there was this persistent feeling that something else that was making Jensen uncomfortable. Jared thought about the way Jensen had said the word “cops” and the stony look on his face when he’d said it. That could be it – lots of people didn’t like the police, especially people with abilities, because they had to suffer official scrutiny all their lives.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked Jensen.

Jensen remained silent for a long moment. Jared thought he was going to say yes, but Jensen sighed, shook his head. “You came all the way here. I don’t know the protocol about post-sex interaction, though. Is watching the game on TV alright?”

Jared smiled, couldn’t help himself. He probably should go, but he was warm and lazy and didn’t want to move. Jensen was looking at him like he was some coded message that was hard to decipher, and it felt like a challenge. “Sounds awesome,” he said

There was no sex that night, not that Jared needed there to be or anything. Sure there were some moments when their shoulders or knees brushed and Jared’s thoughts flashed to Jensen naked and having his hands all over him, but it was fleeting. It was a nice evening, just joking around and watching the game and fighting playfully about which team they supported and why, and what it said about the other’s claim to manhood. Lying in his bed that night, Jared couldn’t help but think back on it and wonder – were they friends now? Were they _dating_? It didn’t feel like dating, but it wasn’t friendship yet either. The thought of Jensen as his friend was nice, even though it seemed unlikely it would happen. Jensen looked like he could use a friend.

_And your hand on his dick._

Oh, Jesus. This train of thought was going nowhere, so Jared forced his mind to shut the fuck up and let him go to sleep. Being gay and a psychometrist, and a consultant for the police, Jared had already enough potential complications in his life for someone who liked things easy and laid back. Closing his eyes and making his breathing even and controlled, Jared fell asleep pretty quickly.

\---

The phone was ringing. Jared ignored it, waiting for it to go on voicemail. It was late and he was tired, had his hands plunged in hot water and soap, scrubbing the dishes. He also had a feeling that nothing pleasant awaited him if he picked up.

The silence was nice, but short-lived. Whoever was calling really wanted him to answer the fucking phone.

“Goddamn it,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

He got his hands out of the sink and wiped them quickly on a towel, then rushed to the living room, looking around until he spotted his phone on the table, sitting on a pile of papers. “Hello?”

“Jared.” It was Misha, and he didn’t sound happy. Jared tensed; his hand was still slicked with water and soap so he grabbed the phone with both hands.

“Yeah? Let me guess…”

“There was another murder.”

Jared closed his eyes. The way Misha had worded it, it meant that it was the same murderer – it meant that it was probably a serial killer. And hearing the edge in the detective’s voice, Jared could guess that the victim was again someone who had an ability. Awesome.

“Where?” he simply asked.

He quickly scribbled the address on a piece of paper, found his shoes, jacket and keys in a matter of minutes, for once. He opened the door of his apartment, paying more attention to whether he had his wallet on him than to where he was going, and brutally met with something that yelped. Jared shouted in surprise.

“Ah! Jesus, what…?”

A young woman was standing before him, dark-haired and slender. She was holding her nose, slightly bent over in pain.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!”

Jared leaned forward, hands hovering over the woman’s shoulders, unsure if he should touch her. She straightened and raised her head to look up at him, her palm still covering the lower half of her face. She barely reached the middle of his chest, and Jared felt guilt rush through him, thinking about how he could have knocked her over.

“I’m okay.” Her voice was muffled. She blinked a few times, and took her hand off of her nose, rubbing it gingerly with the tip of a finger.

“Is it broken?” Jared asked anxiously.

She laughed, and winced. “No, it’s okay.” She smiled brightly. “I’m the one who should apologize, you were just walking out of your apartment. Are _you_ alright?”

“I’m fine.” He rubbed the back of his head. “I’m Jared, by the way.”

“I know.” She reached out a hand, and he took it carefully. “Genevieve. I came to see you, but it looks like you have somewhere to go?”

“Yeah, I’m huh… I have an emergency.”

She tilted her head and gave him a strange look. “Is it another murder?”

Jared stiffened and his eyes narrowed. “What do you know about that? Who are you?”

“I’m a journalist. I work for the _New York Independent._ You’re a consultant for the police, right? You’re a psychometrist.”

“You know I can’t talk about that.”

“Yes, I’m aware, but this case is more complicated than it looks. If you had a minute I could explain-”

Jared was feeling himself go from wary to downright pissed off. Who the hell did that woman think he was? Did he look that young and gullible? “Look, miss-”

“Cortese. But call me Genevieve.”

“Look, Miss Cortese. You’re wasting your time. I can’t talk to you right now because I’m needed, and I can’t talk to you ever because I don’t have the right to do so. So you should go now.”

“Maybe if you were willing to listen to me-”

“Please go. I understand that you’re doing your job-”

“No, you don’t understand, actually.” She took a step to get closer to him and rested a hand on his elbow. “There are things you should know about this case.”

“Why don’t you talk to the police?”

She shook her head. “They… They wouldn’t listen.” She smiled and her fingers squeezed his arm. “Please, just a few minutes.”

He shook her hand off, irked that she was trying to charm him into spilling the beans about the case. Not that he knew much, but it was a matter of principle. “I really have to go.” He pushed her of his way, without violence but firmly enough that she had no choice but comply.

“Damn it,” he heard her mutter behind his back.

For a moment, he regretted that he hadn’t tried to read her. He pushed that thought far to the back of his mind, where he could ignore that he’d ever had it.

Chapter 3

Jensen glanced at his watch. It was 11:30, he was tired and wished the couple on the bed would hurry the fuck up. The moans and the rhythmic thumps of the headboard against the wall were gaining in speed, so it sounded like he was going to be able to go home soon.

He thought back on Jared asking him what he did for a living. The kid had way too many romantic notions about the job of a P.I. Not that Jensen was really a P.I., not exactly. The client wanted documented details on how and when and with whom her husband was cheating on her, and that was where Jensen’s unusual talent was coming into action. Every dirty, dark, and most of the time illegal job that required the utmost discretion ended on Jensen’s desk – figuratively speaking. It was a lot of stealing, and breaking and entering, not so different from what he had done before except now he was hired for it. So here he was, sitting in a dark corner of the room and recording the whole thing. He could have tried to get out after the first few minutes, but he didn’t want to risk doing anything that would draw attention on him. He wasn’t invisible; he was just not very noticeable, and not in a completely reliable way.

“Ooooohhh,” shouted the woman. The man grunted, and they both fell back together on the bed. When the sounds of kissing came to him, Jensen bit back an annoyed groan. _God, I hope they’re not warming up for a second round._

As it happened, they were, and Jensen was left waiting with growing impatience. The longer they were here, the more risk there was that one of them was going to notice him. Jensen had gotten himself out of this kind of situation before, but it was a pain in the ass and if he could he would gladly avoid it. The sex sounds were boring and repetitive, and Jensen did his best to tune them out.

There was a time when he had sort of gotten off on it. Not on the sex, precisely – most people were hopelessly unimaginative – but on the knowledge that he could be privy to something so intimate, be so close he could touch, and people didn’t have the slightest idea that he was there. He wasn’t proud of it, he was aware that it made him a grade-A creeper, but it had taken years for that little thrill to disappear under the dullness of the job. Now, it made him mostly feel lonely.

The couple finished their business and left the room. They locked the door behind them, but it didn’t matter; it wasn’t the first time it had happened to him, and locks held no secret for Jensen. He left the motel unnoticed and took the subway home to get some well-deserved sleep.

There weren’t many people as it was almost the middle of the night, but after ten minutes in the train Jensen had the uncomfortable feeling he was being watched. He rested his head against the window and half-closed his eyes, pretending to nod off, but looking around him through his eyelashes. There was a couple of teenagers, the girl huddled against her boyfriend – probably –with her face hidden in the crook of his neck. There were also two men, one at each end of the car: one was really tall and was wearing the ugliest sweater Jensen had ever seen, the kind knitted by your blind grandma; the other had a beard and was sitting hunched forward, his elbows resting on his knees so that it was hard to see his face. They weren’t looking at each other, they weren’t even looking in Jensen’s direction, but he had that feeling that they were purposefully avoiding to do those things.

The train got to a stop, the door opened. No one moved.

 _Stay clear of the closing doors!_ said the cheerful voice through the loudspeaker.

Jensen made a quick decision: he jumped to his feet and bolted through the doors. Once on the platform he turned and watched the train leave. Behind the window he could see that the really tall man had stood up, and that his face was scrunched in frustration. Jensen climbed up to the street, and walked for a good fifteen minutes before he took another line to get to his place. At home, he barely took the time to strip before he fell face first on his bed and blacked out.

The next day, he forced himself to get up early to go to the agency and show the fruits of his labor. Had his usual exchange with Gabriel, regular as fucking clockwork. He was feeling pissy this morning, not sure if it was because of the job or some other unidentified cause but his humor wasn’t made any better when he ran into the person he always tried to avoid when he came here.

“Jensen.”

“Hi,” Jensen said, even though he wasn’t sure it had been supposed to be a greeting. “ _Boss,_ ” he added, making sure to add the right amount of sarcasm to the word.

Steve Williams looked at him long and hard. He didn’t say ‘ _look what the cat dragged in this morning_ ’ but Jensen didn’t need to be a telepath. The man didn’t like Jensen one bit – maybe it had something to do the fact he used to be a cop, but then, so did Beaver.

“What business do you have here, kid?” Williams asked, voice low and gravelly.

“I work here, boss.”

“I know.”

Williams sounded irritated and Jensen knew why. The only reason Jensen could work for the agency when Williams ran it with Beaver and thought Jensen was the lowest kind of scum on earth, was that Williams was completely unable to keep his mind fixed on him. Almost as bad as Gabriel, he was. It certainly didn’t improve his feelings any, when he could remember them, but Jensen drew as much dark and petty satisfaction he could from the fact.

“Beaver is expecting me,” Jensen said. “Have a little something for him.”

Williams’ face screwed up in disapproval. He didn’t like the kind of work Jensen did for the agency, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. _Fuck you, old man, you and the horse you rode in on. I’m here and I’m not moving._ Jensen almost wished _Williams_ was a telepath, so his thoughts would come through loud and clear.

“I’m sure you do. Now get the hell out of my sight.”

Jensen gladly did as told, for once – he didn’t care much for being seized, judged and condemned by a sanctimonious asshole. He went to Beaver’s office, didn’t knock on the door because he wasn’t feeling polite today. One of those days.

“Hi, boss!”

Beaver raised his head sharply.

“Didn’t your mama teach you how to knock on doors?” Beaver grunted, trying to cover his surprise with a rough tone.

“She must have forgotten. You know how it is.”

Jensen threw the files with the incriminating pictures on the office and dropped on a chair. Beaver eyed him carefully. “What crawled up your ass, Jensen?”

“Oh, you know. My other boss doesn’t like me.” He pressed a hand against his chest and widened his eyes in mock hurt. “That hurts a guy’s feelings, you know. Even a non-existent one.”

“Steve is…” Beaver paused and looked down at his desk, like he thought he could find the right word in the scattered papers. “He’s a man of integrity.”

“And you’re not?”

It was the first time he’d seen Beaver look that uncertain; it intrigued him. It was also nice that for once he wasn’t the one in the spotlight, being examined.

“I don’t blame Williams,” Jensen said when it was obvious Beaver wasn’t going to answer. “The shit I do – like that last job, what was the deal with that? Did the client have some weird fetish or something? I’ve never been paid to steal clothes and a fucking hairbrush.”

“None of our business. Don’t ask, don’t tell. The clients don’t know who you are, we don’t know why they want the shit they want.”

“No one knows who I am. It’s not like it’s some huge favor you’re doing me.”

Beaver shook his head. The conversation was over, it seemed. Jensen swallowed up his irritation.

“Have you seen that?” Beaver asked out of the blue.

He threw a newspaper on Jensen’s lap, and Jensen frowned, made wary by the brutal change of subject but curious enough to look at the headlines on the open page.

_WOMAN FOUND HANGED IN FRONT OF HER HOUSE_

“Huh.”

He didn’t read the news, didn’t care enough about the world for that, but as he scanned the article he was surprised to find that he already knew what this was about.

“I’ve heard of that murder.” He raised his head from the newspaper. “Why are you showing me that? New job?”

“No. I just… That woman was a transparent.”

“I know.” For some reason he didn’t want to mention Jared so he said, “I can read. I’m surprised she made the headlines, but I guess our ability dies with us. Who knew? We can reach fame post-mortem.”

Beaver looked at him with a pained expression that Jensen had some trouble deciphering. He drew a hand to his face and scratched at his beard. “You should be careful, son.”

Jensen was too surprised by the concern in his boss’ voice to react at the 'son.' “Why? This woman had nothing to do with me. We had the same ability, so what? Hundreds of people share an ability.”

“And those men who attacked you? Might not have been a coincidence.”

Jensen hadn’t thought about that, but at the mention he felt unease creeping up his spine. It had been a weird incident, and it must have happened not long before the murder of that transparent woman. There were also those men in the subway yesterday. But. No, it was insane. He wasn’t going to get overwhelmed by paranoia.

“No.” He shook his head. “There’s no way it had anything to do with that woman’s death. They didn’t try to _hang_ me.”

“What did they try to do, then?”

“They didn’t really try to kill me, I don’t think so, they…” Took hold of his arms, tried to stop his struggle with a blow to the head. Tried to _take_ him, he realized with chilling horror.

“What did they want?” Beavers asked again.

 _That’s the million-dollar question, boss._ How hadn’t he seen that before? They’d tried to kidnap him, and there was no possible reason for that. No matter whom he’d pissed off, no matter whose interests he’d crossed, people couldn’t hold onto the memory of him long enough for that.

Except. Except it wasn’t so true anymore, was it?

\---

There were moments when he felt like he was a dead leaf floating on a river, drawn by the current. He guessed everyone had their moments of feeling meaningless, lost in the immensity of the universe. But sometimes it was more than that; he felt like he was sinking in the water and the world around him had dissolved. He’d never really understood how his ability worked, but in those moments it was like he could physically perceive its action, the acid erasing him out of existence. Sometimes it scared him. Some other times, he welcomed it and let the blissful oblivion wash over him. If he could fade away well enough… He just wanted to be left the fuck alone. Didn’t need any men in black trying to fucking kidnap him and… and what? What the hell could anyone want from him?

He lay in his bed until the sun outside told him to shake himself out of it. He wasn’t going to get scared of his own shadow, was he?

He thought of calling Jared, stared a while at his phone and let himself consider it. They had exchanged phone numbers. It was ridiculous and Jensen didn’t know why he’d accepted, why he still hadn’t erased the goddamn number. But a number didn’t mean he had to call, and as long as it was there, possibilities were open.

Calling Jared wasn’t a good idea, though, he told himself as he got up and got dressed. The only person he’d ever met who couldn’t forget him, and then there was this kidnapping attempt. Well, the kidnapping had happened before he saw Jared again, and he couldn’t really wrap his mind around the logic of Jared trying to have him kidnapped or helping someone else do it, but still. Stranger things had happened. Also, the men in the subway. The fucking men had been following him, he was pretty sure. That couldn’t be good.

Someone knocked on his door and the sound startled him out of his thoughts. He cursed himself for his jumpiness, and forced himself to go open it. Whatever those people wanted with him, they’d probably forgotten it by now. And whoever they were, they certainly wouldn’t knock on his fucking door.

“Hi.”

He had been expecting Jared, because he didn’t get that many visitors – _try none at all_ – but instead there was a cute brunette standing on his doorstep. She was small, had long curly hair and big dark eyes, and her lips were curled in a tentative smile. He realized he probably wasn’t looking very welcoming.

“Yes?”

“Jensen Ackles?”

“Who’s asking?”

He didn’t like the sound of his name in other people’s mouths. It never boded well, especially if he’d never met them before.

“Genevieve Cortese.”

She presented a small hand for him to shake and he took it warily. Whoever she was, he probably could defend himself against her – if she was alone, that was.

“You’re Jensen Ackles,” she said, no more question in her tone. Her smile widened. “It wasn’t easy to find you.”

“Not many people manage that.”

“I was motivated.” She glanced over his shoulder. “May I?”

He moved to block her sight. Not that there was much to see in his apartment, but he just didn’t like it, that woman he didn’t know being there, wanting to come in.

“I don’t know,” he said. “What do you want?”

“I’m a journalist. I work for the _New York Independent._ ”

Jensen raised an eyebrow. “What do you want from me?”

“Have you heard about the murders?”

“That transparent woman.” It couldn’t be the only murder out there, but somehow he was sure that was what she meant. “Wait, did you say murders? Like, more than one?”

“There was another one. Yesterday.”

“Was it…” He swallowed, trying to bring some moisture into his dry mouth. “Was it another transparent?”

“No. But the man who died did have an ability. He was an empath.”

“That’s… terrible.” Right, terrible. How the strongest words seemed not to mean anything. “But why are you here? I don’t know anything about that.”

“Look, Mr. Ackles. I understand your wariness, I do, but…” She looked around the hallway, like she was expecting someone to be listening to them. For the first time, he noticed that there was a touch of nervousness under her professional smile, that her fingers kept drumming restlessly against her purse. “Can we take this inside?”

He looked at her, so small that he could probably throw her over his shoulder without breaking a sweat. What was he afraid of, really?

“Alright.” He moved away to let her come in. “Make yourself at home.”

She smiled politely and went to sit on his couch. He thought about sitting down too, but decided against it. There were not going to have tea, here. He was going to let her say her piece and then he’d see her to the door.

“So,” he said, crossing his arms. “What’s the big secret?”

“You know about Aaron Mills, don’t you?”

“Of course. Isn’t he our savior or something? Our personal Christ?”

It occurred to him suddenly that maybe she didn’t know about his ability, and that maybe he should keep it that way and not clue her in by including himself in that 'our.' But she simply nodded, no surprise on her face. She already knew.

“You also know that he died recently.”

He really couldn’t have missed that, even if he didn’t watch the news. It’d been everywhere on TV, on the radio – and, well the processions in the street had been hard to avoid, too. He’d been a little irritated at the time, wondering why he should care about that guy. It wasn’t him that Aaron Mills had saved, more than thirty years ago, even if he was one of them, one of the freaks. The journalist looked sad, though, so he didn’t voice those thoughts.

“I do.”

“He was murdered. He was a great man, you know, an amazing journalist. He changed the world.” She sounded like she was talking to herself more than to Jensen, so he didn’t interrupt her, even though he already knew all that. “Anyway, before he died he was working on something. Something big, maybe of the level of the big 78 scandal. Actually, I think it was related to what happened thirty years ago.”

“How so? I mean, it was a long time ago. What else is there to reveal? The army did some experimentation on… “ He was going to say _freaks_ , but it sounded too self-deprecating. “…on people with abilities, and he brought everything to light. End of story. I doubt the FACC would allow anything like that to happen again.”

“I’m not sure that Aaron shed light on _everything_. I think there was more and he was going to write another article about it. I went through his notes and they’re… messy. I couldn’t make sense of much. But I found names, lists of names. That’s how I found _your_ name. Did you know him? Did he ever come to see you?”

She looked at him, straight in the eye, like she was trying to read the truth from his very soul. It occured to him that he didn’t know if _she_ had an ability, so she could very well be doing just that.

“No!” he exclaimed, getting angry. “I knew his name, knew what he'd done, but I didn’t _know_ him and I have no fucking clue why he had my name.”

“Did anything… _strange_ happened to you recently?”

Well, he thought, as a matter of fact yes. People had kind of tried to kidnap him and everything. But he didn’t know Genevieve Cortese, had no reason to trust her and tell her the truth.

“No. Nothing happened.”

She sighed, looking disappointed. He felt bad about it for a fleeting second, but it passed. Fuck her, it was none of her business. She’d been wasting his time, too.

“Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Ackles.” She stood up, raised her hand like she was going to offer it again for a goodbye handshake, but abruptly stopped her movement. “Can I ask you something else?”

She was already looking through her purse, not waiting for him to agree, and came up with a picture.

“Have you seen this woman?”

Jensen looked at the young, smiling face, at the blond hair. He didn’t know many people, but saw a lot, through his job, the bars, one night stands. Even he had his limitations.

“I don’t think so. What’s her name?”

“Katie Cassidy.”

There was something in the reporter’s face, something even sadder than when she had mentioned Aaron Mills. That made him take another look at the picture, and suddenly he remembered – he _did_ know her. Well, he’d never spoken to her or anything, but he’d seen her in a bar a couple of times. Looking at him, even, which was unusual in itself, and she had looked… sad, or maybe afraid.

Genevieve had caught on his silence, and when he looked up he saw hope on her face. He decided he could give her that one thing.

“Yes,” he said. “I’ve seen her around.”

And he had a bad feeling about it.

\---

“Gonna tell me what’s bothering you or what?”

Jared raised his head. His bangs were partially hiding his eyes, but Jensen could tell that he was surprised by the question. To be honest, Jensen was kind of surprised too. Surprised that he knew Jared well enough by now to pick up on Jared’s feelings, surprised that he cared enough to ask.

Jared had been coming over every other day for the last few weeks. Sometimes it annoyed Jensen that his quiet was disrupted when he wasn’t asking for it, but for some reason he never told Jared to get lost. They drank beer, they watched TV and played cards or video games. They never did anything even remotely related to sex, never kissed or sucked each other off. They didn’t even touch that much, and that put Jensen on edges because Jared was _right here_ and God did Jensen know what was hiding under those clothes – but sometimes Jensen thought about Jared’s ability and it stopped him, and sometimes he had a feeling that if he reached out and touched he was going to break something. Fuck if he knew what it was.

Tonight Jared was all broody and uncharacteristically quiet, just drinking his beer and staring at nothing. Jensen didn’t know Jared that well, but seeing as Jared was sitting on his couch and drinking his beer and had done so more often than anyone, Jensen figured they were something; maybe friends. That must mean he had to make some kind of comment.

“Jared?” Jensen tried again.

“Oh, uh. Nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.”

“It’s, it’s work.” Jared combed his hair with his fingers. “Kinda. You know, the murders. Maybe I shouldn’t talk to you about that… Oh, well, you’ll probably see it in the news anyway.”

Probably not, Jensen refrained from saying. He wasn’t just concerned, now, his interest was piqued and he wanted to know more. “What about the murders?”

“Someone was arrested.”

“That’s… great, no?” Jared’s mouth twisted. “Not great? What’s the matter?”

“My visions did the trick. I got a lot more on the second body than I got on the first. Places, mostly. And death – screaming, and struggling, getting weaker and weaker as life…” Jared sucked in a breath. “Anyway, everything pointed to this one guy. And he was arrested. But I can’t help thinking about what I got from the first victim, and it doesn’t add up. It’s almost like it was done by someone else.”

“But the MO was the same?”

“Yeah, completely. But what if it was two different murderers and one was just copying the other? It would mean that there’s still a killer on the loose.”

Yeah, not a comforting thought. The thought popped up into Jensen’s mind that maybe he should tell Jared about Genevieve Cortese’s visit. She had mentioned the murders, but had never explained what it had to do with everything else she’d told him, and he’d been too preoccupied to ask. Maybe she’d just tried to catch his attention to get him to listen. Maybe there was more going on. Jensen opened his mouth, ready to talk, but the words wouldn’t come out. He couldn’t because it wasn’t safe to trust Jared – Jared was the only person that Jensen knew who couldn’t forget him, and now Jensen was suddenly part of other people’s business, people he didn’t know, and that just wasn’t something that happened to him.

He cleared his throat. “Why don’t you tell your cop friends that? They’re the ones who can do something about it, not me.”

“I don’t know, I don’t have any proof. It’s just more of a feeling.”

Jared looked so dejected that Jensen had the impulse to go and pat his shoulder or something. Comfort him. Something kept him from moving, maybe because it would be hypocritical to go from not trusting Jared to acting like a concerned friend.

“Hey, Jay.” It made Jared look at him. “Want me to kick your ass at _Guitar Hero_?”

That got him a smile, and it felt nice to be the one to make Jared smile. Felt like he was doing something good for once, even something as small as cheering up a friend.

“You only wish,” Jared said.

Jensen chuckled. “Bring it on, kid, show me what you’re made of.” He was standing up to get the equipment when a question came to him. He hesitated, not wanting to kill Jared’s tentative good mood, but he was still curious. “Jared, the guy who was arrested – what was his name?”

Jared told him – and every thought that Jensen had about playing video games suddenly vanished. He felt cold, then he felt angry.

_That fucking bastard._

\---

After Jared had left, kicked out of the apartment because of Jensen’s sudden imaginary headache, Jensen tried to take some time to cool off. But instead of calming down he found himself pacing, working himself into a fury until he was ready to punch the walls.

_Fuck it._

He took his jacket and left the apartment. All the way to the agency his fingers clenched and unclenched in his pockets, and he had to take deep breaths before he went in. He didn’t want a fight, he wanted explanations.

He barged inside, not letting Gabriel go through their recognition routine.

“Beaver is in his office?”

“Yeah, but who…”

Jensen ignored him, didn’t have the patience for questions and answers tonight. When he slammed open the door to Beaver’s office, he was faced with his boss’ startled expression.

“What the hell, Jensen?”

“Funny, that was exactly the question I was gonna ask you.”

“I don’t…”

“Kevin Drapper,” Jensen spat out.

Beaver’s face immediately shut down, not betraying any emotion, but that was enough reaction for Jensen. “Is he a killer, Jim? Did you know and send me… But it can’t be. Why did someone want to steal stuff from his place? Is he really the one responsible for the murders? If he isn’t… Jesus Christ, am I accomplice to a fucking _murder_? Am I?”

There was a silence and it was all Jensen could do to keep himself under control. More than angry now, he was feeling horrified. And betrayed. Betrayed because he’d thought he could trust Beaver, to some extent. He’d let himself be fooled and now…

“I don’t know,” Beaver said.

“Who was the client?”

“I don’t know. With the amount of money he was paying, I didn’t try to know more.”

“And now, don’t you want to know more? Some rich dude wanted stuff from that guy’s apartment, and now he’s accused of murder. And…”

_Jared doesn’t think he did it._

He was certainly not going to mention Jared to Beaver now, but his mind was starting to paint a clearer picture and he didn’t like it. Could someone trigger one of Jared’s visions by putting Kevin Drapper’s hairs or fibers from his clothes on the body? If it was possible, then Jensen was helping cover up a murderer, an innocent man was in prison, and a killer was out there. And Beaver… He examined his boss through narrowed eyes.

“Why do I think you’re lying to me?”

“I’m not. I swear, I don’t know any more about those murders than you do.”

“But you mentioned them, the other day. That’s one hell of a coincidence, don’t you think?”

“Jensen.” Beaver stood up so he could look at Jensen straight in the eye. “I was just concerned about you. I don’t know anything else. It’s the truth.”

Jensen pressed his lips together, crossed his arms on his chest as he was reaching a decision.

“Maybe,” he said. “But I don’t want to work for you anymore.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Consider this my letter of resignation or whatever. I’m done with this shit.”

“Jensen, think about it. What are you going to do?”

Jensen turned his back and tuned him out. He left the office slamming the door, but it didn’t feel very satisfying, felt like screaming in empty space. As he walked away, his mind started spinning, realizing what he’d just done. He didn’t have a job anymore. Finding a job was almost an impossible task for him, he was going to have to go back to petty thievery and short-term cons, and god, he’d really thought he was done with all that.

There was someone talking to Gabriel, a woman who was turning her back to Jensen but he recognized the dark hair and the curves.

“Hey, Trace,” he called.

She turned around, didn’t need more than a few seconds to smile at him and look him up and down.

“Hey, Jensen, my boy. How are you today?”

“Good, good. You look as gorgeous as ever.”

Her smile turned into a leer. “Sweet talker. You’re not so bad yourself.”

Jensen smiled, feeling himself relax. Traci and him flirted a lot, but they’d never actually slept with each other. Was a shame, really, but she was a coworker and Jensen preferred to keep it uncomplicated. Fucking someone he was seeing on a regular basis, someone who couldn’t completely forget him, that would only lead to no good. Though he guessed that wasn’t a problem anymore, was it?

Traci winked at Gabriel, who looked confused, probably unaware yet of Jensen’s presence, then she took hold of Jensen’s arm and drew him away from Gabriel’s desk. “So, wanna tell me what’s the matter?”

“What d’you mean?”

“Well, I heard people shouting. It was you and Beaver, wasn’t it? And you look like someone ate your canary.”

“Now, that’s a disturbing thought. If I had a canary.” Traci threw him a look. “I don’t work for the agency anymore,” he admitted. Saying it out loud awakened the twirl of panic inside him.

“You don’t? What are you going to do?”

Jensen took a deep breath. This was what Beaver had said too, and it kind of irritated him that they thought he was so helpless. He had survived years without this job, on his own, without any help from anyone. He could do it again.

“I don’t know. I’ll find something. I always do, right?”

She frowned, looking concerned, but he was grateful when she didn’t add anything.

“Actually, Trace, I think I might need your help with something.”

“Of course. Shoot.”

“I need you to look into someone. Her name is Genevieve Cortese. She’s a journalist, she says she works for the _New York Independent_. If you could also… follow her, see what she’s up to.”

Traci’s face, always so expressive, suddenly went emotionless. Jensen watched the change with a vague feeling of unease.

“If you don’t want to do it…” he started.

“No, it’s not that. But… why can’t you do that yourself? I don’t mind doing it, that’s not a problem, it’s just that… I’m good, but you’re a goddamn shadow.”

“Yeah, about that." He let out an uncomfortable chuckle and Traci’s brow furrowed harder. It looked strange on her, that serious worried look. It looked wrong that she wasn’t smiling and teasing and carefree. Jensen swallowed. “It seems that it’s not so true anymore. Something's going on, people _remember_ me. This woman and I have already met, and I don’t know if she’s going to remember me. I can’t be sure of that.”

Jesus, he had trouble admitting it but it scared the shit out of him. He hated his ability, it had a few perks but mostly it made everything about life more of a hassle. But it’d always been _there_ , with different degrees of reliability but always working. It was who he was.

“Hey, Jensen. You okay?”

“Yeah.” He scratched his cheek, and shot her a tentative smile. “I’ll be better when I’ll know more about Genevieve Cortese.”

“Alright, alright, point taken.” She chuckled, her warm smile back on, and she punched his shoulder. “You’re something else, Jensen Ackles, you know that.”

“I know, Traci. I know.”

He couldn’t help but wonder at her first reaction. He trusted her enough to not be too worried that something bad was going to come out of this, but then, he’d trusted Beaver too. It would look suspicious to retract his request now, though, so he decided to let it go for the moment, and hope it wasn’t going to come back and bite him in the ass.

 

Chapter 4

“Let the show begin.”

Jared cast a look in Malik’s direction, but the detective was looking at what was going on behind the one-way mirror, at the table and the two men sitting face-to-face at it. Jared had been thrilled when Malik and Misha had offered to let him watch the suspect being interrogated, but now he was a little uncomfortable. There was an aquarium feeling to the setting, though he couldn’t decide who were the fish in that scenario.

Jared forced himself to focus. Behind the mirror, Misha had sat down across the table from Kevin Drapper and was spreading pictures, pushing them toward him without a word. No, actually, that wasn’t quite right… Jared frowned at the scene. Misha was turning his back on them, but he was holding himself differently than usual, the set of his shoulders straight and stiff.

“This is Castiel, isn’t it?” he murmured.

“Yeah, Castiel generally handles interrogations. That’s where his freaky spidey sense comes in handy.”

Jared nodded. It made sense; he’d met Castiel only a couple times but he knew that Misha himself was pretty much a regular, and that Castiel had all the ability. Or maybe it was more that _Castiel_ was Misha’s ability; Jared wondered sometimes what was written under the 'ability' section on Misha’s ID card, but he’d never dared to ask.

“Hey, Malik. I’ve always wondered…”

He trailed off. Malik’s eyes flickered in his direction. “You wondered what? Let me guess, this is about Castiel, right?”

“Yeah. Is it… Is he, like, does Misha have a split personality or something?”

“You mean like a mental illness? Why don’t you ask Misha?”

Jared felt the heat rise to his cheeks. “Yeah, because that’s not an awkward question at all. ‘Hey, dude, hope you don’t mind me asking but are you clinically insane or what?’”

“Well, I asked him. Almost those exact same words, too.”

Jared’s eyes widened. “Wow, really? What did he say?”

“He laughed, and he explained that he’s been cleared by psychologists because he could remember everything that happened when Castiel took over and he knows everything Castiel knows. It wouldn’t be like that if he had a dissociative disorder, they say.”

“So what is Castiel exactly?”

“Hell if I know, kid. He just says Castiel is his ability ‘taking life’. It creeps me out too much to ask for more details.”

Yeah, Jared could see that. It did boggle the mind – Jared had to wonder how the FACC handled a case like Misha’s, if his ability was so hard to understand. In the room, Castiel was still silent, and it was obviously making the suspect nervous. Drapper was fidgeting, alternatively glancing between the pictures and Castiel.

“You’re making a mistake,” he finally said, before biting his lip like the words had escaped him.

“What is a mistake, Mr. Drapper?” Castiel asked. Even his voice sounded different, deeper and rougher.

“I don’t know what you want from me.”

“Just look at the pictures.”

Kevin Drapper complied. He looked at them for a long moment and it was fascinating to see the change on his face as he did. The nervous lip biting stopped, a muscle in his jaws twitched as he gritted his teeth, and his eyebrows knitted together in a frown.

“I don’t know those people.” His tone was calm and even, and he raised his head to meet Castiel’s eyes with confidence. “I don’t,” he repeated.

“What about Annie, Mr. Drapper?”

Castiel’s – _Misha’s_ – slender fingers extracted a picture from its place and pushed it in Drapper’s direction. From his angle, Jared couldn’t see what it showed.

“She begged, didn’t she?” Castiel said.

“What’s going on?” Jared asked in a low voice, although he suspected that the room was soundproof and they couldn’t be heard from outside. “Who are the people on the other pictures?”

“We found some older cases with a similar MO,” Malik answered, not diverting his eyes from the suspect. “Looks like our friend here has been busy.”

“Shit,” Jared whispered. He wanted to ask how many, but he was feeling sick to his stomach and was suddenly afraid to know.

“I don’t… I don’t know what you’re talking about, I don’t know,” the suspect was repeating, shaking his head but keeping his eyes on the picture Castiel was showing him.

“Don’t you remember what she said? It made you angry, you wanted her to shut up. And you did shut her up, didn’t you Mr. Drapper?”

Drapper stilled, looked up sharply. “What are you doing to me?”

“What don’t you tell me what you did to Annie?”

“Are you one of them? One of the…” He didn’t say the word, but the way hatred distorted his features made it clear what he meant. Freak. Monster. Whether or not Kevin Drapper had killed those people, he certainly didn’t like people with abilities.

“Am I what, Mr. Drapper?” Castiel asked calmly.

“Are you a telepath? Because I know the law, you can’t use your mind thing on people, you can’t work as a cop.”

“I’m not a telepath.”

Drapper’s mouth twisted like he’d bitten into a lemon. He clearly didn’t believe Castiel. Jared couldn’t really blame him; he’d heard Misha repeat many times that he – _Castiel_ – wasn’t a telepath, but he still didn’t fully understand how it worked. Misha knew things, he’d explained, and only when the subject was prompted in the right direction. Jared had asked whether he got sensations, feelings, the way Jared’s visions worked, but Misha had only shaken his head. He just knew, that was it.

“You’re lying,” Drapper said, chin jutted out in defiance.

“I’m not a telepath. As you said, I wouldn’t be able to work for the police if I were.”

“Then how do you know about…”

Castiel cocked his head. “How do I know what, Mr. Drapper?”

Eyes widened, mouth slightly open, Drapper was the picture of a deer caught in the headlights. He closed his mouth, opened it again, visibly struggling to find a way to retract what he’d just said. Castiel linked his fingers together on the table.

“I think there is indeed a liar in this room, Mr. Drapper. But it isn’t me.”

\---

Jared didn’t have a watch, but he thought that the interrogation lasted for several hours. It was fascinating to watch Castiel forcing out the truth from Kevin Drapper, bits by bits, as painful as pulling teeth. By the end, even though Drapper hadn’t exactly confessed all the murders, there was little doubt left in Jared’s mind about his guilt.

“Well, that was something.”

Jared looked carefully at the man who had just entered. Face relaxed, shoulders loose… Misha smiled.

“It’s me, kid.”

“I know, yeah… I know.” He cleared his throat. “What do you think? Is he a serial killer, did he killed all those people?”

“Oh, he’s a serial killer, alright. But…” Misha frowned. “I didn’t get something from him for all the murders. Not for the last ones.”

Jared’s heard skipped a beat, his mouth went dry. “What does it mean? He didn’t do these ones, you think?”

“Or they’re not as important to him.” Misha shrugged. “Or something. I’m not a telepath. I didn’t read his mind, and my ability isn’t exact science.”

“I’d say it isn’t science at all,” Malik said, before looking at Jared. “Why all the questions? You got something?”

“I don’t know.” Jared rubbed his forehead; God, he was tired. “It’s just that. The vision I had from the transparent woman, it didn’t have anything to do with Kevin Drapper.”

“But you said it was a vision from her past, right?”

“Yeah, but… I guess I just hate not knowing what it was, why it was important to her.”

Misha patted him on the arm. “Word of wisdom, Jay: you can’t always have answers for everything. Even when you’re like us.”

“Yeah.” Jared snorted, forced himself to smile. “That was deep, Misha, thank you. I’m glad to learn from someone wiser and way older.”

Misha laughed, and pushed open the door to the hallway. Jared followed, deep in thought. Joke aside, Misha had a point. Jared couldn’t always know everything, _shouldn’t_ know everything. Jane White had a right to take her secret to the grave.

“Good morning, detectives.”

The voice brought Jared back to the present.

“Oh, good morning, general.”

Misha was shaking someone’s hand with unusual deference. Malik did the same, politely but with an unreadable expression. The man was tall, had sparse graying hair cut very short and a long face that probably hadn’t seen a smile in a long time. He’d seen that man somewhere… Jared realized he was gaping when the man turned to him and spoke.

“And you are?”

“Jared Padalecki,” Misha answered in his place. “He’s a consultant.”

“Nice to meet you.” Jared took the hand that was offered to him. The man’s palm was dry and warm. “What are you consulting for?”

“I’m a psychometrist.”

The man pulled back, not quickly enough to be considered rude, but Jared had seen it happen often enough that the discomfort there was unmistakable to him. He was more concerned about remembering where he’d seen this man before, why there was a pool of dread slowly growing in the pit of his stomach. He had the vague memory of seeing this man speak, not in person but-

“Oh, you’re General Stevens!” he exclaimed. On TV, that was where he’d seen this man before. General Stevens was a prominent member on the FACC board, the federal agency that decided on how to handle people with abilities all over the US. That made him a very important man.

General Stevens’s thin lips formed a polite grimace and he nodded, before turning to Misha and Malik, effectively dismissing Jared.

“I came to find out what kind of progress you had made with the case. I’m sure you understand that someone killing people with abilities… This is very unfortunate. We don’t want to look like we’re tolerating that kind of behavior. It would stir trouble with all kind of factions.”

Misha and Malik nodded. There was no need to ask what the general was referring to. The revelation thirty years ago that abilities like telepathy, telekinesis, precognition and other powers straight out of a scifi novel were all very real and affecting people had provoked strong reactions, not all negative. Jared didn’t know who he minded more, the people who would refuse to talk to him or touch him because of what he was, or the others. The pro-mutant, like they called themselves, who had embraced the existence of people with abilities because it was everything they had ever dreamed about. They generally had very specific ideas about what people with ability should be, super-heroes or humanity’s next step in evolution. With great power come great responsibility and all that shit. Jared had had to talk with them for one of his papers, but he generally tried to avoid them like plague. They didn’t get that Jared just wanted to be himself.

Malik was talking, about the case and Kevin Drapper, but Jared tuned him out because he already knew all that. Instead, he listened carefully to the general’s answers because something was still bugging him. It felt like he’d heard that voice somewhere, not on TV because voices always sounded different through electronic – but more like they’d talked face to face. And that was impossible, because Jared had never met someone that important in his life.

_Welcome back._

Jared almost startled, the voice had felt so real that it was like the general had just spoken to him. But no, he was still intently involved in his conversation with Malik and Misha. Jared felt his heartbeat speed up. He knew where he’d heard that voice before. It was a memory alright, but it wasn’t his.

“I, uh, I have to go,” he blurted out.

The three men looked at him – Malik puzzled, Misha slightly worried, and the general annoyed.

“Well, good bye,” Jared said hurriedly. He nodded in the general’s direction. “It was nice meeting you.”

He didn’t wait for any answers, he needed to get out of here as quickly as possible. He knew it was irrational, there was no way any of them couldn’t have had the slightest idea of what was going through his mind, but he was scared and confused. The whole way to his apartment, he had the paranoid feeling that he was being followed or observed. As soon as he was home, he locked the door behind him and leaned against it, trying to sort out the twirl of thoughts and emotions in his head. He pressed a fist against his forehead.

“Goddamn it, fuck, get over it you fucking wuss.”

So. He’d heard the general’s voice in Jane White’s memory. He tried to recover enough of the memory to play it again, to make sure. The white walls, the feeling of being tied up, the hopelessness. _Welcome back._ Jared shivered and closed his eyes, slid against the door until his ass hit the ground. He carefully breathed in and out, pushing back emotions he knew weren’t entirely his own.

He opened his eyes, feeling more in control. He took off his jacket, threw it on the back of a chair, and went to the kitchen to get himself a beer. The alcohol, the cold feeling of the bottle in his hand helped clear his mind out. That memory only proved that Jane White had been in contact with the General, and it could be nothing. But after twenty-three years Jared knew enough about his ability to know that there was little chance it was a random memory. It was somehow tied to her death, and from there to thinking _he_ ’d been the one to kill her… Maybe he hadn’t killed all the others, but he must have had something to do with Jane’s death. Problem was, Jared had no fucking idea of what he should do about it. He didn’t have any proof. Misha and Malik respected his ability, but his speculations wouldn’t have any weight against someone that important.

He had the sudden and absurd impulse to call his mom. It was ridiculous, of course there was nothing she could do, but even now that he was an adult there was no one who could make him feel safe like his mom. And he very much needed to feel safe, right now.

\---

He didn’t know how it translated into going to Jensen’s, but somehow that was where he found himself. Again. It always happened this way, it seemed. He never really planned to go see Jensen but did anyway. Honestly, he wasn’t sure why Jensen put up with him, as it always looked like Jensen didn’t know what to do with him. But as long as he didn’t say anything Jared kept pushing, curious to see where it was going to lead them.

“Jared?” Jensen looked tired, and he wasn’t opening his door completely to let Jared in like he usually did.

“Uh, can I come in?” Jared asked.

Jensen had never denied him, though he’d looked at times like he wanted to, but for a moment Jared thought that was it, Jensen was going to tell him to fuck off and never come back.

“It’s late,” Jensen said.

Was it now? Jared didn’t think it was that late, but if Jensen didn’t want him here he wasn’t going to impose.

“Alright, I’ll come back another time. Sorry.”

He was turning, ready to go, when he heard Jensen call him.

“Wait. You can come in. I was just…” Jared waited. “Never mind.”

Jensen made an impatient gesture. Jared complied, got inside, took off his jacket and didn’t wait for an invitation to sit on the couch. He’d been here often enough by now to feel comfortable, like he was a friend instead of a barely tolerated guest.

Usually, Jensen would have gone to the kitchen to get them beers, but instead he was leaning against the doorway and watching Jared carefully. There was something weird going on, enough to distract Jared from his own distress. The distance, first – Jensen still avoided touching him, but he didn’t normally act like he wanted to have a few pieces of furniture between them. And maybe Jared was projecting, but he thought Jensen’s posture, arms crossed and shoulders tense, was radiating nervousness, like he was on alert or something.

“What’s wrong?” They’d both spoken at the same time. Jared snorted, Jensen’s face relaxed in a smile.

“You first,” Jensen said.

Jared was going to protest, make Jensen say what was on his mind but he figured it was useless to fight over it. Besides, he really wanted to talk to someone and wasn’t that the reason he’d come to see Jensen?

“Something happened. At the police station.” He paused, trying tot figure out how to tell his story. “You remember that vision I got from Jane White?”

“The transparent woman? Yeah. You said it was probably something from her past.” Jensen’s mouth twisted. “Didn’t you say that someone had been arrested?”

Jared frowned. He’d told Jensen about his doubts, and now his friend was acting like that conversation had never happened. Maybe it hadn’t been a good idea to come. Jared hesitated, but Jensen was looking at him expectantly. Whatever, he thought, he just needed to get it out of his chest.

“In that vision, there was a man talking. I know who it is, now.”

“Who?”

“General Stevens. I met him at the police station, I was there to watch Kevin Drapper being interrogated. I recognized his voice.”

Jensen’s arms uncrossed and he thrust his hands into his jeans’ pockets. “So? He knew her. Big deal.”

“It wasn’t random. She died and it was the only thing I got from her. It means something. I don’t think Kevin Drapper killed her. Maybe he killed others, he sure seems to be some kind of psycho, but… There’s something more going on here. Maybe that journalist was right.”

“What journalist?”

Jensen’s urgent tone made Jared raise an eyebrow. Of all the things he’d said, he didn’t know why it was that part that concerned Jensen.

“She came to see me, like a few weeks ago. She said there was something more to the case, I just figured she was trying to make me spill.”

“What was her name?”

“Um. Genevieve something I think. She said she was working for the _New York Independent._ ”

“Jesus fuck. That bitch.”

It had been a whisper, but loud enough for Jared to overhear. Jared stood up and ate the distance separating them in a few steps.

“You know her?”

“Don’t worry about it. What are you going to do?”

“Did she come to see you too? Why? You’ve never been on that case.”

Jensen’s eyes darkened. “None of your fucking _business._ ”

Jared swallowed. Jensen looked like he was about to hit him, so he decided to drop the subject. For now.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do. I’m not even sure what it means. I think…” He lowered his voice, which was stupid because there was no one here but them. “I think maybe he killed her. General Stevens. I don’t why, and I don’t know if he had anything to do with the other murders but… Fuck.”

He stepped away from Jensen and turned his back on him, needing a moment to compose himself. Jesus, just saying it out loud sounded insane. He sounded like some crazy conspiracy dude. “I should tell the police. I should tell Misha and Malik.” Yes, that sounded like the rational thing to do. Maybe they wouldn’t believe him, maybe they would think he had gone off his rockers but he was pretty sure at least that they would listen, and that they wouldn’t rat him out even if they dismissed him.

“Don’t.”

Surprised, Jared turned to face Jensen. “What, why? Weren’t you the one who told me the other day to talk to them about my doubts? I mean, I was freaked out at first but I think that’s the right thing to do.”

“And what do you know exactly, huh? Nothing, you don’t _know_ anything. Just that weird vision of yours and you think you recognized that dude’s voice. They’re gonna laugh at you, and if you’re right then you could be in danger if the wrong people overheard it.”

“And what is it to you?” Jared asked, chin up.

“What is it to me?” Jensen let out dry laugh. “I don’t know, you’re the who came and tell me about it. What do you want me to say? What do you want from me, Jared?”

That hit close to home, because Jared didn’t know. He didn’t know why he came, he didn’t know what he expected from Jensen, just that he was starting to get the feeling that he shouldn’t expect anything.

“I don’t know,” he said with some bitterness. “Maybe I just needed a friendly ear, is that too much to ask?”

“Don’t you have other friends?”

Jared gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. On impulse he reached out and grabbed Jensen’s shoulder, felt Jensen tense but didn’t relax his grip. Jensen tried to shake him off.

“What the fuck, Jared? Let me go!”

Instead of listening Jared grabbed Jensen’s other shoulder and pressed him against the wall. The _thump_ when Jensen’s back hit the hard surface was strangely satisfying.

“Are you afraid?” Jared asked, his face so close to Jensen he could feel the warmth of his breath on his lips and chin.

“Afraid of _you_?” Jensen spat out. “You’re full of it, kid. I can kick your ass anytime.”

His knee raised and brutally came into contact with Jared’s thigh, narrowly avoiding his crotch. Jared groaned and moved back; Jensen took advantage of that to reverse their positions and Jared was shoved against the wall, breath kicked out of his lungs. Jensen grabbed his shirt with both fists.

“Who’s afraid, now?”

Jared tried to laugh, took a breath, as deep as he could with Jensen’s weight pressuring his ribcage.

“I meant,” he coughed, “Aren’t you afraid of what I can see?”

Jensen’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You almost never touch me, not since you found out what I can do.”

Jensen flinched away, but Jared used his free arm to grab him by the elbow. “You’re a fucking coward, Jensen.”

“Watch your fucking mouth.”

“You’re so afraid to trust me that you can’t come close to me. You’re always running away.”

“I’m touching you now.” Jensen punctuated his words with a thrust of his hips. “See? Not afraid.”

“Yeah, I see that,” Jared murmured. He was suddenly very aware of Jensen against him, chest to chest and hips to hips with nowhere to run but the wall behind him. They were breathing each other’s air, now, so close Jared could see that Jensen was wearing contacts, could count his freckles if he wanted. Jensen’s breath smelled like coffee.

Jensen thrust his hips against him and Jared felt his erection against his thigh. His breath hitched, his heartbeat quickened and he moved his hips in answer, heat pooling in his lower belly. He was getting hard, and he knew Jensen was aware of it when he smirked. He shoved against Jared again, rubbing and grinding at a slow pace that was driving Jared insane. He grabbed Jensen’s waist and moved his hips in circles, forcing him into moving faster.

“Nngh, Jesus,” Jensen mumbled and hid his face in the crook of Jared’s neck.

Jared moaned, half in surprise and half in arousal when he felt tongue and a bit of teeth as Jensen started nibbling at his skin. Then Jensen’s movements started to get more erratic and he shuddered helplessly. A few seconds later Jared felt his own orgasm rush through him, and they just leaned against each other for a moment, breathless and relaxed. Then Jensen straightened and stepped back. Jared felt suddenly cold.

“Okay.” Jensen cleared his throat. “Wanna clean up?” he asked, pointing at the dark spot on Jared’s crotch.

“Oh, no, I’m okay.” He felt he needed some space right now, some time to think. “Maybe I should go now.”

“What are you gonna do? Are you gonna go to the police?”

Jared rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know. I think I need to sleep on it.”

“Yeah. Well, goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Jensen.”

Jared was almost at the door when Jensen called him. “Hey, Jared.” Jared turned and arched a questioning eyebrow. “If you see that journalist chick again, don’t trust her, right?”

Jensen looked worried, an expression that Jared had never seen on him before. He had that feeling he had often with Jensen, that he was missing something crucial, but Jensen was so tight-lipped, and Jared didn’t have the energy to start a new argument. Even if it got him another orgasm.

“I won’t,” he said. “I wouldn’t have talked to her anyway.”

“Alright, good. Bye, then.”

Jared waved his hand in a tired goodbye and pulled at the door.

\---

He was just getting out of the shower when his phone rang. The shining screen told him it was his mom.

“Hey, mom.”

“Hey baby. You sound tired.”

Jared smiled. Just hearing his mom’s voice made him feel better, and maybe it was pathetic for a twenty-three-year old but he didn’t care. Comfort was what he needed now and if it made him a momma’s boy then be it.

“Been a long day, mom.”

He walked to his couch and wearily dropped himself on it.

“Is it school? It’s midterm time, isn’t it? How did that go?”

“Alright, I think. I’m not worried about the midterms anyway. Just… someone got arrested for the murders, you know, the people with abilities who got killed. I watched the suspect being interrogated.”

“Do they think it’s really him?”

“Seems like it, I mean, if it’s not him at least he’s one creepy fucker.”

“Jared,” his mom said, soft reproach in her voice.

“Sorry, mom. But yeah, my point is that there is a good chance that he’s our guy.”

“Then what’s bothering you?”

Jared hesitated. He shouldn’t tell his mom too much, she didn’t need to be part of this mess. And anyway, he didn’t have a whole lot to say, didn’t even know if he had enough to talk to Misha and Malik.“Nothing. Just, you know… That case, it got to me. Thinking that someone would kill people just because they’re different.”

 _Just like me._ He didn’t need to say it, he knew that his mother was thinking about it too. That she worried that something would happen to him, just because he was different, and in more than one way.

“I know, it’s terrible,” she said. “What people can do to each other. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I kinda don’t want to talk about it, it’s just gonna depress me more.”

“Alright. How is everything else going? You said school was good, but what about… do you have someone?”

Jared repressed a groan. When his parents had accepted that no girl would ever hang at his arm, he’d thought that his mom would stop obsessing about him finding 'someone.' It didn’t seem to matter, though.

“Mom, come on. If there’s someone, you’ll be the first one to know, promise.”

His mom’s chuckle vibrated into his ear. “Alright, I’ll stop nagging you. For the moment,” she added in a teasing tone.

Jared couldn’t help but smile. “How is everything at home? How’s dad?”

“Oh, you know your father. Today, he decided he wanted to build us a shelf.”

“Dad? He doesn’t know one end of a hammer from the other.”

“I know. That’s what I told him, but you know how well he listens. A brick wall, that’s what he is. So I figure I just have to wait until he nails his thumb to something, and then I’ll be able to say ‘I told you so.’”

Jared chuckled. “You’re cold-hearted, mom.”

“He has it coming. Oh, you should call your brother. He hasn’t called me in a while – tell him his poor mother yearns for a sign that he’s still alive.”

“Why don’t you call him yourself?”

“Oh, but that would be nagging, wouldn’t it?” She started laughing but then stopped, and Jared could hear a faint beeping noise in the background. “The kitchen is calling me.”

“Oh, okay.”

“I’ll let you get some rest. Goodnight, sweetie.”

“Goodnight, mom.”

The call disconnected and Jared stifled a yawn. His mom had worked his magic again, he felt sleepy but less anxious and had some hope that he was actually going to get some sleep. He quickly got ready for bed, but as he was about to slip between his sheets, his phone rang again.

Jared sighed, grabbed his phone and pushed the “talk” button without looking at who was calling. “Mom, I’m just about to go to bed.”

The laugh he got was definitely not his mom’s. It was deep, male and unknown.“Guess again,” the voice said.

Jared frowned and sat on his bed. “Who’s that?”

There was a silence. “It’s Jensen,” the guy on the phone finally said.

“Jensen who? I don’t know anyone called Jensen.”

“Look, Jared, I guess you’re mad at me or something, and I was calling to apologize, but this thing you’re pulling is really not fucking funny.”

“I’m not trying to be funny, I really don’t know you. You probably got the wrong number.”

“Your name is Jared Padalecki, you’re twenty-three, you’re a student at NYU, you-”

The more this Jensen guy was going, the more Jared felt chilled. Who the hell was that? How did that man know so much about him? “I’m going to hang up, now,” he said, voice strained. “Don’t try to call again or I’ll call the cops.”

“Jared, no wait…”

Jared hung up and looked at his phone for a long moment. He didn’t move but his mind was going a thousand miles a minute, thoughts bumping against each other. It was probably irrational but he couldn’t help thinking that General Stevens had somehow found out that Jared was onto him and this was his retaliation.

“You’re crazy,” he said aloud.

The sound of his own voice actually made him feel better, putting the ridiculousness of his thoughts in perspective, and he almost laughed at himself. If General Stevens were trying to silence him, this was certainly not the way he would go at it. Not with some crazy guy calling him and pretending to know him. No, it was probably a joke. A really, really _bad_ joke.

About an hour later, as Jared started to drift to sleep, he was woken up by someone knocking on his door.

Chapter 5

This was a nightmare. More precisely it was _his_ nightmare, the kind that woke him up in the middle of the night in cold sweat. He had disappeared, had been completely wiped off the face of the earth and no one but him was aware of his existence.

Jared not recognizing him had been his first big neon clue, but Jensen had held onto the hope that Jared was being an asshole and he was the brunt of some horribly tasteless joke. Now he was walking down the street, and he had no choice but to face the terrible truth. People kept bumping into him, and it wasn’t unusual but it never happened that often. No one looked at him, even when he tried to talk to them, “Hey you! You fucking bald asshole! You’re so ugly I bet no one ever want to suck your dick.”

He sprouted obscenities, screamed until his voice was hoarse but there was never any reaction. He was a ghost.

After a while, he stopped trying to get people’s attention and just walked around aimlessly, drowning in the sea of people who weren’t seeing him. He could have a stroke, he could kill himself right here and no one would lift a finger. Maybe they would see his body, at least.

He wandered into midtown Manhattan in the streets shadowed by the big skyscrapers. He passed people trying to sell tickets for the Empire State Building but they didn’t notice him. The more he walked, the more depressing his thoughts got until he felt could choke on them. His childhood was coming back to him in disconnected bits and pieces – memories of being forgotten at gas stations, shopping malls, at school. Of his mom looking at him and asking, _where are your parents, sweetie?_

A cab almost ran him over, a blur of yellow, and it startled him enough that he realized that he was standing in the middle of 5th Avenue, surrounded by cars, and that it was a fucking miracle he was still alive. He hurriedly crossed the street until he reached the curb.

“Oh, Jesus, get a fucking grip,” he muttered to himself.

The self-pity had to stop, suicide by car was nothing but lame. He punched his own arm for good measure, to make himself snap out of it. He had to go see Jared, maybe when faced with Jensen he would remember him. And then, Jensen could try to figure out what the fuck was going on with his ability.

It was late when Jensen got to Jared’s apartment, and he hesitated for a few seconds. Maybe Jared was already asleep. Oh, well, Jensen could always apologize when Jared remembered who he was. He knocked resolutely on the door, and waited.

After a few minutes of waiting Jensen started to think that maybe Jared wasn’t going to open the door. He was probably freaked out by Jensen’s earlier phone call, and who could blame him, some stranger calling and pretending to know him, that was all kinds of creepy. Of course, maybe Jared didn’t even remember his call, and maybe he couldn’t hear him knock on the door either.

Jensen was about to knock again, more forcefully this time, when the door half-opened.

“Yeah?”

Jensen could only see Jared’s nose, chin and some hair. Wasn’t going to be easy to have a conversation like that.

“It’s me, Jensen.”

Jared retreated even more behind his door. “Who are you? What the fuck are you doing here at this time of the night?”

“Don’t you recognize me? Come on, open the door some more, look at me.”

“How stupid do you think I am? Now go before I call the cops.”

“Just look at me.” Jensen raised both of his hands, fingers spread. “I don’t have a weapon, my hands are empty. I’m stepping back, look.” He took a step back. “I won’t hurt you, but please, _please,_ look at me.”

Jared didn’t say anything. He didn’t close his door either, so Jensen held his breath, hope making his heart pound so loud it was deafening. Then after a few everlasting seconds of silence, Jared slowly stepped out. He gave Jensen a long, lingering look. He started by his feet and moved slowly up until he met Jensen’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know you.”

He looked genuinely sorry, too, and that was the final stroke for Jensen, who walked back until his shoulders hit the wall. He let himself slide against it until he was sitting down. The floor didn’t feel solid enough, though, falling apart like everything else, leaving Jensen dizzy and lost. It was getting more difficult to breathe too, and his vision was darkening. _Oh fuck,_ he thought to himself, _I’m having some kind of panic attack._ This was so surreal and ridiculous. It couldn’t be his body, couldn’t be his mind. He felt he should be laughing at the utter nonsense of the situation.

Jared’s voice floated to his ears. “Hey man, you alright?”

Jensen wished Jared would go away, this was too much. His hands gripped at his shirt, trying to ease the pain in his chest. Some tiny flutter of panic was started to pierce the haze of his mind. _Breathe, you fucking moron, breathe._

“Come on, breathe, breathe!” Jensen felt hands on his cheeks, then something wet and soft against his neck, his jaw. “I’m sorry, so sorry. Jensen, please, look at me, please.”

That was his name; that had to mean something. Somehow Jensen managed to make his lungs work again – the first breath burned through him, so painful he was tempted to stop breathing again but he fought it, took a breath, and another, until the ache in chest eased and his vision was back to normal.

“Sorry, sorry, Jen, I’m sorry,” Jared was mumbling between the soft kisses he was pressing against Jensen’s cheek, then against he corner of his mouth. Then he was kissing Jensen on the lips, sudden and unexpected. He pressed their mouths together, desperate like he was the one needing to breathe, licked Jensen’s lips until Jensen opened his mouth to give way to Jared’s tongue. They kissed like they never had before, like they needed the other’s air to keep going, saliva mingling and tongues tangling until there was no distinguishing them. Until Jensen felt the need for air again and pushed Jared away.

“Jensen, I’m so sorry,” Jared said again, wiping at his mouth.

His lips were red from the kissing, but his eyes were shining. Jensen felt obscurely guilty for that. “So I take it you remember me now. Unless you kiss all the guys who knock on your door at night? If that’s right, you should have them pay a fee, you would make a fuck load of money that way.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Jared said. He was frowning now, looking angry for some reason Jensen couldn’t fathom. “This isn’t funny, nothing about you almost choking to death on my doorstep is funny.”

“Come on, Jay, drama queen much? I wouldn’t have choked to death. I just had…”

He couldn’t say panic attack, it was too damaging for his pride. And his pride had taken enough damage tonight. He realized that Jared and he were both sitting on the floor, right in the middle of the hallway. Oh, God. He needed to get the fuck out of here, before one of the neighbor came to see what this was all about.

“Alright. I should go now.” He patted Jared on the knee. “Goodnight.”

“Hey, wait.” Jared grabbed his wrist. “What are you doing? You’re not going anywhere.”

“What the fuck do you mean I’m not going anywhere?”

“I’m not letting you go, not after…” Jared fumbled for words. “Not after what just happened.”

“Look, Jared, not that I don’t appreciate the concern, but you’re not my mom.” He tried for lightness, hoping to mellow Jared’s mood. “My mom never gave me that kind of kiss.”

“I’m serious, Jen.”

Jared pressed his lips together, probably in an attempt to show how serious he was. It mostly made him look constipated, but Jensen didn’t think it was wise to bring that up at the moment.

“I came to make you remember me, and now that you obviously have I’m gonna go on my merry way. I never wanted you to kidnap me.”

“I’m kidnapping you.” Jared tightened his grip on Jensen’s wrist, like he was afraid Jensen was going to bolt away at any moment and escape. Jensen resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “And that means I’m not asking you your opinion about it. Kidnapping isn’t a fucking democracy.”

“Jared…”

“Please, Jensen.” Jared’s expression softened until he looked pleading. “It freaked me the fuck out, what happened. I don’t think I can go back to sleep after that.”

This time Jensen stopped resisting and actually rolled his eyes. “Alright,” he said. “But only because you’re pathetic and needy. Now let go of my hand, if that’s not too much to ask. I’m not gonna run away.”

Jared let go of him with obvious reluctance, then he got on his feet and held out a hand for Jensen to pull himself up. Jared pushed his door, still half-open.

“After you, my good sir,” he said with a mock reverence.

Jensen flipped him off. “You’re too kind. A kidnapper with manners. I hope I get some good old-fashioned molesting out of this, at least.”

Jared laughed, hand pressed against Jensen’s back to gently push him inside. “We’ll see,” he said. “If you behave.”

“Dude, I always behave.”

That earned him a slap on the ass, and he yelped in indignation.

\---

Jared had forced him to take a shower for some strange reason and Jensen had protested, then suggested that they shower together, but Jared had only scolded him like some uptight elementary school teacher. Really, Jensen didn’t understand what was the matter with him. He had to admit, though, that he felt a lot better when he got out. He just put on his shirt and jeans, and went into the living room, where he found Jared curled up on the couch, yawning and blinking tiredly.

“Aw, you’re tired,” Jensen said, couldn’t help but grin at the sight.

Jared opened his eyes just enough to glare at him.“Asshole,” he mumbled. He rubbed his face with both hands, then patted a spot on the couch next to him. “Sit down.”

“Yes, mom.”

Jensen sat down. They didn’t talk for a few minutes.

“So,” Jared said. “Care to tell me what happened?”

Jensen shrugged. “I’m not sure. I told you… my ability, it’s kinda random.”

“Yeah, you told me it varies with people’s sensitivity.”

“It does, but not just that. It just… varies, randomly.”

“What do you mean, randomly? Has something like that ever happened before?”

Jensen’s fingers, almost against his will, started picking at a loose thread on his shirt. “Well, there are good days and bad days, like there are people who are more or less sensitive to it. I’ve never been able to pinpoint what makes it tick. But it’s never been… that much. People couldn’t see me, at all. I could have run in the street butt naked, it wouldn’t have made any difference.”

“I could see you. Even when I couldn’t remember who you were I could see you.”

“Yeah, well.” Jensen did his best to smile. “We’ve already determined you have a particularly thick skull.”

“I’m glad I have.”

Jared looked entirely too serious and Jensen had to keep himself from squirming on his seat.

“Dude, you’re creeping me out. Stop with that look.”

“Alright, alright. Aren’t you sensitive. Anyway, think you could tell me what’s going on with you? And I’m not just talking about your transparency going wild, but you were acting kinda weird earlier. Did something happen?”

Jensen looked at Jared, whose face was the picture of honest concern and curiosity. It was difficult to imagine he could have anything to do with the men who had tried to kidnap him, with that feeling Jensen had lately that he was being followed. The only thing Jared had against him was his uncanny ability to resist Jensen’s ability – up to a certain point, it seemed, but it still made him the only person Jensen could rely on for the moment. It was a big thing, though, to trust Jared like that, it was a leap of faith.

“Jensen?”

“You know that journalist who came to see you?”

“Genevieve something?”

“Cortese. Genevieve Cortese. She came to see me too.”

“What?”

“Yeah. She knew my name, was determined enough to find me and let me tell you, it’s not that easy. She told me she got my name from a list she found in Aaron Mills papers.”

“Wait, you mean, _the_ Aaron Mills?”

“In person. And that’s not even the craziest part.”

Jensen told Jared about the journalist’s suspicion that Mills was working on something big, and the picture of that blond girl that Jensen had seen a couple of times. He left out the part about the kidnapping attempt, and the strange men following him – he didn’t know what to do with it, and he wanted to keep something for himself, couldn’t help it. It was in his nature to conceal.

Jared remained silent for a moment, absorbing the information. “What are we gonna do?” he asked. “Maybe you should call the police.”

A laugh bubbled in Jensen’s throat at the ridiculous thought. “No, no fucking way.” He shook his head. “Me and the police aren’t buddies.”

“Still. I should give you Misha’s or Malik’s number. Just in case.”

“No. I don’t need them.”

Jared gave him a sad look, like he pitied Jensen’s mentally challenged behavior but was resolved not to say anything about it.

“What do you think she wants?” he said. “Genevieve Cortese.”

“We could always ask her. I told a colleague of mine to look into her. She probably has something by now. Her address at the very least. We can go tomorrow.”

“Yeah.”

Jared yawned so wide his jaw creaked; Jensen laughed.

“Is it past your bed time, Jay?”

Jared yawned again. “Some asshole knocked on my door while I was going to sleep.” He reached out and dropped a hand on Jensen’s knee, squeezed a little. “Sleep on my couch?”

“After forcing me to come in I was hoping to sleep in your bed, at the very least, and maybe a blowjob.”

“Oh. Yes, of course. Well I don’t know about the blowjob but you can sleep in my bed. I just thought maybe you wouldn’t… I mean the times we’ve shared a bed there’s never been any sleep involved, and dude, don’t take this the wrong way but you have some fucked up intimacy issues.”

Jensen winced. Ouch, straight to the heart and take no prisoners, right, Jared? But, yeah, maybe he deserved that. “You saw me having, um, a meltdown on the floor of your hallway,” he said. “I think you’re safe to share a bed with.”

Jared nodded, something like gratitude in his eyes and it felt a little too solemn for Jensen’s taste. Like maybe something really important was happening and he wasn’t sure what.

“So, show me to your room?”

Jared pushed himself up, using Jensen’s leg to lean on.

“Hey, Jared,” Jensen called.

“What?”

“Thanks.”

Jared tilted his head. Hair fell in his in eyes and he pushed it away, before giving Jensen a questioning look. “For what?”

Jensen huffed and shook his head.

“No, nothing.”

\---

Jensen wasn’t a patient guy, which was a problem when you work in the investigation business. “You need to work on that,” his mom used to say, to what he would generally reply that she should mind her own fucking business and that she didn’t know what she was talking about. Patience was waiting for people to notice him, remember him, and he’d enough of that to last him a lifetime. A lot of screaming matches had begun with that sentence. He was ready to admit that he hadn’t been an easy teenager, but hey, the upside of his power for his parents was that half of the time they didn’t remember it was their job to deal with him. They could look at him and commiserate on young people’s lack of education these days.

“Try again,” he told Jared, who glanced at him but complied.

There was still no answer. Jensen was briefly tempted to break the door down and be done with it.

“Maybe she’s not here,” Jared said with a tone of voice, soft and patient, that sounded like it was reserved for unhinged and potentially violent people.

He did have a point, though. Jensen let out a loud sigh. He wanted answers, and he wanted them now. He thought about knocking on the door himself, but even though his transparency seemed to have toned down a notch – a few people had looked at him on their way here – it was still all too possible that it would be like playing the trumpet under water.

“Fuck,” he swore under his breath. He was about to tell Jared that they should come back later, when a voice spoke up, muffled by the door but still recognizable.

“Who is it?” Genevieve Cortese asked, her voice laced with wariness.

“It’s Jensen Ackles, Miss Cortese!” Jensen said.

“Who?”

If possible, she sounded even more suspicious. With his luck, she had a phone in her hands and was about to call the police. Not that it would be much of a problem for him, but he didn’t want that kind of problem for Jared.

“I’m…” Jensen started, but Jared put a hand on his shoulder and cut him, “It’s Jared Padalecki!”

There was a silence, and Jensen held his breath. Was she going to call the cops, shoot through the door? After a few ever-lasting heartbeats, the door opened slowly to show Genevieve’s face. She didn’t look much like the confident young woman who had forced her way into Jensen’s apartment. Her hair was tied up in a loose ponytail and a few locks were falling in her eyes, which were bruised like she hadn’t slept in a while. Her lips were chafed like she had been biting them a lot.

She took her time studying them both, Jensen especially. Her face changed completely when she recognized him, morphing from suspicion to surprise, then apology.

“Jensen Ackles,” she said. “The transparent.”

“In the flesh.”

“I’m sorry I…” She stopped herself and lowered her head briefly, before looking up at him again. “I guess apologizing doesn’t change anything.”

“It’s nonsense, also. If there is anyone to blame, that’s me.”

There it was, that look in her eyes, like she pitied him. He was used to it but it didn’t mean he had to like it. Her gaze went from Jensen to Jared.

“I didn’t know you two knew each other,” she said.

“You didn’t, really?” Jensen didn’t bother hiding the disbelief in his voice.

“No, I didn’t.” She shook her head and said in a low voice, like she was talking to herself, “I should have been expecting something like that, though.”

“What do you mean?” Jared said. “What’s going on?”

She glanced right, and left, like she had done when she had come to see Jensen, like she was expecting people hiding at the corner and listening to them. Paranoid. But then, it wasn’t paranoia if they really were out to get you, right?

“You better come in,” she said finally.

The apartment was plunged in darkness, and it took a moment for Jensen to realize it was because all the curtains were drawn. Genevieve led them to a couch that was covered with rumpled tissues. There was a half-full cup of some kind of beverage on the floor.

“Sorry,” Genevieve muttered, avoiding their eyes.

She quickly cleaned up the couch, gathering the scattered tissues and picking up the cup, before disappearing in a doorway. Jensen and Jared looked at each other and tentatively sat down.

“Feels like a place where someone is sick,” Jared said, whispering for some reason.

“Yeah,” Jensen said in the same tone. “Or where someone died.”

Jared’s eyes widened but he didn’t have time to say anything because Genevieve was coming back. She stood in front of them, and crossed her arms on her chest. Maybe she wanted to appear in control but it mostly looked she was hugging herself for warmth. It was hot in the apartment, though, almost stuffy.

“Do you want something to drink?”

“We want answers,” Jensen said.

“Why are you coming to me now?” Her eyes narrowed. “Did something happen?”

“Did something happen to _you_?” Jared asked before Jensen could reply that _they_ were the ones asking the questions.

She sighed, bit her lip. “My, um, my roommate was killed.”

Jared gaped in shocked, but Jensen wasn’t much surprised. He had been expecting something like that. “Sit down,” he said. Genevieve gave him a look, outraged or surprised, but did as told without a word. “Now, tell us everything. Don’t leave out any detail.”

“Okay.” She pushed back a lock of her hair behind her ear. “I already told you about Aaron Mills, that he was working on something.”

“Yeah, something big, you said. And he had my name.” Jensen frowned at the memory. “What else?”

“Did you know a man named Colin Finn?”

“No,” Jensen said.

“Did?” Jared asked.

“Yes, he’s dead.”

“Lots of people are dying, lately,” Jensen said. “So who was this dude?”

“He was a transparent.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t know all the transparents on the planet? In fact I don’t know any.”

Jared crossed his hands over his knees and leaned forward, looking intently at Genevieve. “What happened to him? How did he die?”

“He disappeared twenty years ago. Then a few months ago his body was found floating in the Hudson River. He’d been shot. The police have no idea what he’d been up to for all those years.”

“But you do,” Jensen said. “You have an idea. Or maybe Aaron Mills had.”

Genevieve nodded. “The people from 1978, the ones who were detained for research purpose?”

“What about them?”

“Colin Finn was one of them. So was Jane White. So was Bob McMillan, the empath who was killed after her.” She paused, leaving them the time to absorb the information. “This is too much to be a coincidence. Aaron… He tried to contact the others but I don’t know if he was successful. And then he died.”

“You think he was killed?” Jared said. “I thought he’d died in a car accident.”

“I don’t have any proof, but the timing of his death is strange. He never thought he had uncovered everything about who in the army knew about that research and had covered for it and for the kidnappings. He was obsessed with finding out what had happened to Colin Finn. He had a theory.”

She looked at Jensen, like she thought he knew what she was talking about. He had no fucking idea, but he felt his stomach do an uncomfortable little twist. His mouth filled with spit, like he was going to be sick. “Cut the suspense,” he said, his voice a little hoarse. “Spill it.”

“The documentation on transparents, from the research conducted in the Desert Center facility, has been lost. Everything on the other abilities has been found, except transparency. No one thought much about it, because research on transparency never really goes anywhere, even when it’s legal. It’s in its nature to disappear. Scientists lose papers, they forget they even were doing any research in the first place. You know how it is. But Aaron, he thought someone knew exactly where those documents were, that someone knew where Colin Finn was. And that that someone had found out how to exploit the ability, how to extend it to themselves. How to disappear the same way transparents do.”

“That’s…” Jensen murmured, feeling cold like he had been plunged in freezing water. “That’s impossible, we can’t do that. I would know, I mean, I’m a transparent, I should know.”

“Discipline,” Jared said out of the blue. “That’s what you said, remember? Discipline and obsession. The person who did that must have really wanted to learn how to use transparency.”

“Not surprising, think about the benefits,” Genevieve said, “if you could control it you could pretty much get away with anything. That’s what Aaron thought. He was trying to figure out who this person was but that was hard, and then Colin Finn was found dead. And then Aaron died and…” She blinked and bowed her head so her hair covered her eyes, but not fast enough that Jensen didn’t notice they were shining with tears.

“Were you close?” Jared asked softly.

She sniffed a little, cleared her throat before answering, “He taught me everything I know about journalism. He was so close to the truth.”

“Did he have any idea about who was behind this?” Jensen asked.

“General Stevens,” Jared said before Genevieve could say anything. “It’s him isn’t it?”

She looked at him in surprise, then slowly nodded.“You saw something, didn’t you?”

“I heard him, when I was reading Jane White. His voice.” He passed a hand in his hair, shook his head. “It all makes sense, now. My vision. It was when she was a prisoner in Desert Camp. He killed her, killed them because they could talk about his involvement in the Desert Camp project. How come no one said anything? How could he run around free all those years?”

Genevieve shook her head. “The only people who got arrested were those who were at the head of the facility. It was never clear who knew about it in the army – a few heads fell, and everything else was buried. The revelation that people with abilities were not a myth was a revolution in itself. I wasn’t born at the time but I imagine it must have been quite a mess. General Steven was never directly involved, and he covered his tracks well, probably with the help of Colin Finn. If he was interested in transparency, that’s probably how Jane White met him. He’s ambitious, and he climbed the ladder fast. His position on the FACC board is good, but according to Aaron he has other political ambitions.”

“And if he can use transparency to shield him petty matters like laws don’t matter as much,” Jensen said, and snorted. From the point of view of someone who didn’t have to suffer all the downsides, it certainly sounded like a sweet deal.

“Okay, okay,” Jared said. “So. You think the general killed Colin Finn. Why would he do that? Wouldn’t it be like shooting himself in the foot?”

“Colin Finn’s parents both died recently. His father from a heart attack two years ago, his mother fell into the stairs a few months ago, before Finn was killed. If that was how the general forced his collaboration, which is likely, then maybe Finn tried to escape. Or maybe the general decided he was too much of a liability. Anyway, it was what made Aaron pick up on his investigation. He tried to get Jane White to talk to him, but… you know the result. They both died.”

“So to sum up, every time someone got too close, they were killed,” Jensen said. “Nice guy.” He raised his head suddenly. “You said you roommate was killed too.”

“Yes.” Jensen expected more tears but she seemed to have composed herself – her eyes were dry, her hands joined on her lap, her mouth set in a thin, determined line. Jensen felt a surge of admiration. “I imagine it was a warning,” she said, “or maybe a mistake. In any case, he’s onto me. But I’m not giving up, I can’t.”

“What are you gonna do?” Jensen asked.

“I tried to get the other survivors from Desert Camp to talk to me, see if anyone remembered anything that I could use, but I didn’t have much success. I’ve still got a few left on my list. Hopefully someone will agree to tell me something.”

“We can come with you,” Jared said, “maybe it would be easier to talk with us here.” He hesitated. “You don’t have any ability, do you?”

“No. I don’t.”

Something about the way she said that struck Jensen, her tone or the look on her face, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Jared was looking at him, his head tilted questioningly.

“Yeah,” Jensen said. “We should come with you. And who knows, maybe my transparency will protect you or something. Wouldn’t bet too much money on it, though.”

Genevieve was rubbing a thumb on the back of her hand, like a nervous tick, but her eyes and her voice were calm. “Have faith,” she said. “Things will turn out okay. I think it’s a pretty safe bet.”

Jensen snorted. Cryptic bullshit was maybe one of his least favorite things in the world. After people trying to kidnap him to use his ability, maybe. “I don’t think it has much to do with faith, miss,” he said.

She shook her head, smiled a little like he was a silly child. She couldn’t be older than him, though, probably younger. “Call me Genevieve,” she said.

“Call me Jensen,” he said, too snappy to be polite.

“Guys,” Jared intervened. “Shouldn’t we move or something? Oh, and everyone can call me Jared, too.”

Jensen elbowed him in the ribs. “Smartass.”

He couldn’t help a smile. Genevieve was smiling too, looking more lively and less afraid than when they had arrived. She stood up, rubbed her palm on her thigh.

“Give me twenty minutes to take a shower and get changed,” she said. “I’ll be back.”

“Hell of a girl,” Jared whispered once she was gone, leaning against Jensen to talk in his ear. “What do you think about all this? Are you okay?”

“Are _you_ okay? You were almost shitting yourself yesterday just thinking about General Stevens. And now you want to go after him?”

“He’s just one guy, not the boogeyman, as much as he would like to be. We can’t let him get away with this.”

Jared was afraid, Jensen knew him enough now to see it. He had his hand buried in his jacket sleeves and he kept biting on his lower lip, pulling off dead skin with his teeth. Jensen was reminded suddenly of how young Jared was, barely twenty-three. He shouldn’t be involved in this, he should be studying or partying or whatever college students did these days. But he looked up at Jensen and smiled at him, rubbed his knuckles against Jensen’s knee like he was trying to tell him he was okay, or to comfort _him_ , Jensen wasn’t sure.

“Jared,” he said, without purpose, just needing to say his name.

“Yeah?”

“You got dried spit on your cheek. It’s gross.”

Jared frantically rubbed at his face with his sleeve, flipped Jensen off when he started to laugh.

“Asshole.”

\---

Genevieve came back a new person – she’d let her hair loose and put some make up on. She was wearing high-heeled boots and was buttoning up her jacket with a determined frown.

“Let’s go, guys,” she said.

Outside the wind cut like knives, and Jensen pulled up the collar of his jacket, regretting that he hadn’t brought a scarf. A cold spot formed on the back of his hand, then on his forehead and cheekbone, and he scowled at the dark clouds in the sky.

“Great, it’s raining now,” Jared mumbled, echoing his thoughts.

Their eyes met and Jensen smiled. “You big baby,” he said.

There were more people on the sidewalk as they were walking away from Genevieve’s apartment. Genevieve took the lead, and Jensen and Jared walked closer to each other, arms and shoulders bumping occasionally. It was distracting enough that it took a while for Jensen to identify the uncomfortable feeling crawling up his spine, that presence burring holes between his shoulder blades, too familiar these days.

He tried glancing over his shoulder but it was hard to have a look without turning around completely, and there were too many people around them to be sure they were followed.

“Guys,” he said in a low voice. “I think we’re being followed.”

Genevieve slowed down but didn’t turn. Jared’s eyebrows arched up. He looked like he wanted to twist his neck to look behind, but to his credit he just kept walking and glanced worriedly at Jensen.

“You sure?” he whispered, almost too low for Jensen to hear him above the sound of people moving around them.

“No, I’m not – I need to have a look… wait a minute.”

He zipped down his jacket and buried his hand in the inside pocket, coming out with his glasses. The corner of Jared’s mouth curled up.

“I’ve never seen you with your glasses on,” he said. “Must be hot.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that later. In the meantime…”

He looked down on his glasses, so focused that Jared had to grab him by the elbow to keep him from stumbling. Using the glasses as a mirror, he moved them until he had a reflection of the street behind him.

“Genevieve,” he whispered urgently, “can you stop for a second, use whatever pretext.”

She didn’t whisper back but stepped aside to let the crowd pass and stopped. Her head bent down, she was fumbling inside her purse. Jensen and Jared stopped next to her, and Jensen followed the movement of people behind them. Most of them just walked passed them, ignoring them, but there was a man a few yards away who stopped, seemingly looking at a shop window. Jensen couldn’t tell whether it was one of the men he’d caught following him before.

“Alright,” he said, “now let’s go.”

Genevieve straightened up and hung her purse back over her shoulder, before she resumed walking. Her pace was measured but Jensen could see from the stiffness in her back that she was doing her best not to walk faster. He glanced back at the image in his glasses. The man was walking again.

“Got him.”

“Who is it?” Jared murmured.

“Hell if I know, but we gotta lose him.”

Losing a tail had never been a problem for Jensen, especially lately, as he’d had a lot of practice; however, things were different with Jared and Genevieve there. He took the lead and had them brutally change directions, go back on their tracks, cross the streets just before a line of cars cut across the way. After a while, he stopped again to check on his glasses.

“Think we lost him.”

He didn’t get any answer so he looked up and saw that Jared and Genevieve had kept walking without him. Annoyed, he hurried behind them and called, “Hey!”

He caught up with Jared and grabbed him by the shoulder. “Why didn’t you wait for me?”

The look Jared gave him chilled Jensen to the bones – a vacant, confused look, until Jared’s eyes widened and he stilled. Genevieve noticed him stopping and turned around.

“Jared?”

She wasn’t looking at Jensen, but Jared’s look was shifting quickly form one to the other.

“Genevieve?” he called. “Do you see Jensen?”

She frowned, didn’t ask _Jensen who?_ but it was obviously on the tip of her tongue. Her eyes passed over Jensen like he wasn’t there but then she frowned harder, her forehead wrinkling until she finally focused on him.

“Oh.”

Jensen had to talk before she felt the need to drown herself in apologies. “Well, we definitely lost our tail, I’d say.”

They all looked around them. They were in a narrow street and they were alone, not a living soul in sight.

“Jensen.” Jared looked at him with something like awe, making Jensen want to squirm, want to yell at him to stop, maybe punch him for good measure. “Jensen,” Jared repeated, “Dude, I think you did it. I think you made us disappear.”

“No, that’s impossible. I can’t do that, I told you.”

“How can you be sure? You told me yourself that you don’t understand how it works.”

“Yeah, but…”

“I don’t get it,” Genevieve interrupted them. “Did something unusual just happen? We forgot Jensen, but that’s what his ability does, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but it seems that I’m really insensitive to it. We met a couple of years ago and I could remember him. But yesterday, I forgot him – it was the first time it happened. And it wasn’t just me, it was everyone else too, like he’d disappeared. Right, Jensen?”

Not something Jensen wanted to be reminded of, but he nodded. He didn’t get what Jared thought was so exciting about it.

“Okay, I can’t be sure that Jensen actually made you and me disappear too,” Jared kept babbling, waving his hands like he was chasing a fly. “But today it happened again, and I think there’s something here. It’s like your ability suddenly increased. There must be a reason behind it. How did you feel yesterday?”

“I don’t know, freaked out?”

“I mean, before your ability went wild.”

“Hmm.” Jensen thought about it. It was difficult to get a clear picture of what had happened the day before, because his recollection of it was lost in the sheer panic of vanishing in a sea of people. So – Jared had come to see him, had told him about his vision. They’d had a fight and had gotten each other off against the wall. And…

“I felt unsafe, threatened,” he said. He looked at Genevieve. “Jared had told me that you’d come to see him too and no offense, but that was more than a little creepy.”

She smiled and tilted her head, apologetic. “It’s okay. I’m sorry, for what it’s worth.”

“Yeah. People have been following me around lately – I imagine it was the General’s men. I didn’t want you or them to be able to find me, I just wanted to…”

“Disappear?”

Jensen met Jared’s eyes. He looked on the verge of smiling.

“I guess so.”

“And how did you feel today?”

“I wanted to lose my tail. I wanted us to lose him.”

“You think that his ability is influenced by emotions? That’s it?” Genevieve asked.

“Yeah, that’s what I think. There are other abilities that are tied to emotions. My brother, he’s a telekinetic, and when he was younger things would fly whenever he was angry. What do you think, Jensen?”

“I…” Jensen was having a hard time wrapping up his mind around the revelation, that was what he thought. “I don’t know. Why hasn’t something like that ever happened before?”

“Are you sure it never happened before? You said your ability varied randomly. It could be the reason.”

“Yeah.” Jensen should maybe have felt relief that he had an explanation for how his ability worked. He mostly felt betrayed by something that was a part of him, something he should know more intimately than anyone else.

“Jensen.” Jensen looked up. Jared was smiling, strangely affectionate. “It means that you could learn how to control it. Like my brother did, like _I_ did. Hey, Jen. Smile. It’s awesome.”

And Jensen could do nothing but smile.

Chapter 6

Closed doors, doors being slammed into their faces, mistrust, suspicion, sometimes insults. That was pretty much the summary of their afternoon, and Jared was starting to feel tired and discouraged. Jensen was irritated, that much was obvious even though he hadn’t said a lot since he’d used his ability to ditch the guy following them. Jared felt a shiver just thinking about it – it was one thing to know that Jensen could do it, it was another to feel the effect of it twice in two days. He remembered a man standing besides him, talking to him, and in his memories it was both Jensen and a stranger. The paradox made his head hurt.

Genevieve, maybe because it was her job to be patient and pushy, wasn’t showing any sign of discouragement or annoyance. Her smile remained even and her voice controlled as she debated with the nurse at reception, “We just need to ask Mr. Curtis a few questions, we won’t be long.”

“It won’t do you much good to talk to Philip. He doesn’t really make sense, you know.”

“Anything he could tell us would be great.”

“He can’t tell you anything and really, I think he deserves to be left alone after everything he went through.” The nurse’s disapproving frown was getting deeper, and she crossed her arms on her chest to support her stance. “You should go, miss.”

They were losing ground – Jensen’s jaw was working as he struggled to keep words inside, Genevieve’s smile was fading. Jared stepped forward to position himself at Genevieve’s side.

“Please, ma’am, we really need to talk to him.” He leaned forward, dropped his voice. “This isn’t just about an article, there is an investigation going on. Lives could be in danger.”

The nurse – Michelle, according to her name tag – snorted. “Right. You don’t look like the police.”

Jensen suddenly popped up in Jared’s sight line. “No,” he said, “but I’m a PI. Here’s is my card.”

He clapped it on the counter and Michelle the nurse threw a suspicious look at it, looked up again and pursed her lips.

“The police already came,” she said. “They didn’t get anything from him.”

Jensen cast a surprised glance at Jared. Jared shrugged. “Background work, I suppose.” He turned his attention back on the nurse. “Maybe we’ll have more chance. The police don’t know what we do. We have to try.”

He put on his more pleading face, Jensen looked vaguely threatening, and Genevieve remained serene and professional. One of those things must have done the trick because the nurse finally gave them a curt nod.

“Follow me,” she said.

They found him sitting by the window, quietly mumbling to himself. The door was half-open but Genevieve still knocked her knuckles lightly against the wood.

“Mr. Curtis?”

There was no answer, and Genevieve opened her mouth, probably to try again, when Michelle interrupted her, “I don’t know if he can hear you. Or if he can, he never seems to care enough to answer. Just get in.”

Genevieve pushed the door and tiptoed into the room. Jared gave Jensen a look, shrugged and followed her.

“Mr. Curtis? My name is Genevieve Cortese.”

As they came closer the murmured words were getting more distinct, “Oh, no wrong turn… I told you so… Never listen, do you… should have taken the chicken… Congratulations, I’m so proud of you!”

“Is he always like that?” Jared asked to Michelle, whispering without knowing why.

“Always.”

“What’s his ability?” Jensen asked, his eyes firmly on Philip Curtis like he expected him to bolt at any moment. Or suddenly start to make sense.

“He’s a pre-cog. Not even a very powerful one, but it didn’t keep them from messing him up.”

Her expression had changed, subtly, and she didn’t look as much stern as upset now, her hand closed into a fist, knuckles pressed against her lips like she wanted to keep something inside. Jared was tempted to rest a hand on her shoulder to comfort her, but restrained himself.

“So,” he said instead, “You mean that what he’s saying right now is the future?”

“Probably. No one is trying to keep track of it.”

“Don’t you think someone should?” Jensen said. “I mean, it’s the future. And there aren’t that many pre-cogs out there. Could come in handy.”

Michelle huffed a laugh. “Philip isn’t a prophet. Nothing that spectacular. He just catches bits and pieces. What you’re gonna have for dinner tonight. That you’re gonna forget your car keys tomorrow. That kind of thing.”

They watched Curtis in silence. Jared, Jensen and the nurse remained close to the door, but Genevieve had walked to the man and was leaning forward, listening attentively. Jared didn’t know what she hoped to catch; she wasn’t even asking any question.

“Jen,” Curtis said suddenly.

Jensen startled, closed his fists like he expected to have to fight. “What the fuck?” he whispered.

Jared took a few steps forward, straining to hear.

“Jen,” Curtis repeated, “I’m afraid, they’re moving me again, I don’t know what they’re gonna do.”

Jared frowned, trying to make sense of it even though there was probably not any sense to be made. And then he caught sight of Genevieve’s expression, eyes widened, gaping – _oh,_ he thought in a flash of understanding, _Gen, Genevieve, this isn’t about Jensen at all._

“Where?” Genevieve asked frantically, a hand on Curtis’ shoulder, “Tell me where!”

“I see the green lady…” Curtis licked his lips. “I hate spinach, why can’t you ever get it right… Rain again, damn it.”

Genevieve straightened up, let her hand drop from Curtis.

“The green lady…” she said softly, like she were talking to herself. “The Statue of Liberty.”

“What’s going on, Genevieve?” Jensen asked, voice strained. “I feel a little lost, here.”

“I’ll explain. Let’s go, we have enough.” She smiled briefly at the nurse. “Thank you for your cooperation,” before walking past her in long and quick strides.

“Hey!” Jensen went after her. Jared took the time to thank Michelle one more time, glance again at Curtis who looked as oblivious as ever, before going after them.

“…explain yourself, for fuck’s sake!”

Jensen had caught Genevieve by the shoulder and spun her around. He was glaring at her, but she didn’t look impressed.

“Let’s not do this here,” she said.

“Then where?”

“Let’s find somewhere nice and crowded. Safe.”

Nice, crowded and safe translated somehow to a restaurant a few minutes walk away. It wasn’t crowded exactly, no one was sitting next to them, but there were enough people that they didn’t have to worry about something unfortunate happening to them. Jared had watched enough movies to know that it’s a good idea to surround yourself when you’re threatened. Never thought that he would have to test that theory in real life, though.

Jensen put his crossed arms on the table. “Explanation. Now.”

His voice was low and quiet, but no less demanding than if he’d been screaming. It was kind of a turn on, really, at least to Jared.

Genevieve sighed, rubbed her forehead with the tips of her fingers.“Katie Cassidy,” she said.

Jared remembered that name from what Jensen had told him about Genevieve’s visit. Katie Cassidy. The girl who had been watching Jensen. The plot was thickening. Jensen didn’t say anything.

“She’s my sister,” Genevieve said. “And she’s gone missing.”

“Cassidy?”

“Half-sister – same mother, different fathers. It doesn’t matter. She’s missing and I know he has her. I think she’s still in New York, but that they’re going to move her soon, if Curtis is to be trusted.”

“Wouldn’t go as far as that,” Jensen said. “So what’s the deal with your sis? She has an ability doesn’t she? And the General wants to use it for some reason.”

“She’s a, uh…” Genevieve scratched her nose. “The people from the FACC call it ‘tychepathy,’ whatever that means. It’s even rarer than transparency, no one knows much about it. Basically, strange things happen around her.”

Jared chuckled. “Wait, isn’t it the definition for all of us?”

“With Katie, it’s not that she’s directly acting on anything, but that… Improbable things happen in her vicinity. Coincidences.”

“Like a lucky charm?”

“Sort of, though I don’t think ‘lucky’ is exactly the right way to put it. Think about her like a magnet. She draws things to her, people, events. You know when a series of improbable things happen to you, and you just think ‘No way’? It happens to her a lot. She’s like the eye of the storm, like we were all threads in a tapestry all wrapping around her, at least to a certain extent. Her ability is the kind you would want to have to find a needle in a hay sack.”

She gave Jensen a meaningful look. “The General is using her to find me,” he said.

“Not necessarily you,” Genevieve said, “but someone like you. With Colin’s death, he needed to find another transparent before everything he was hiding came into the open. And you’re not the easiest bunch to find.”

“Can she control it?”

“Not much. And the FACC always had an eye on her, making sure she doesn’t use her ability to take advantage of people, so it’s not like she’s had any occasion to learn. But I’m sure the general is using other means to look for you. She’s just the extra help he needs.”

“I get that the general needs another transparent,” Jared intervened, “but what about Jane White, why kill her? She was what he needed.”

“Maybe she wasn’t docile enough. She attempted to escape twice from Desert Camp. She was Aaron’s source: no one remembers it of course but he couldn’t have written his article without her. Maybe the General thought she wasn’t worth the trouble. If he could find someone like her…”

 _Welcome home._ The cold voice from his vision came back to Jared, and with it the feeling of powerlessness that he – _Jane_ – had when the General had caught her, all those years ago. Probably what she’d felt during her last moments too.

Jensen snorted. “I think I should feel insulted that he thinks I’m going to be easier to handle.”

“It’s not funny,” Jared blurted out. He blushed at Jensen’s surprised look and added, “We have to stop him – he’s going to keep going after you if we don’t.”

“Your concern is touching,” Jensen said, but he sounded more confused than mocking.

Genevieve was looking at them and Jared cleared his throat, more embarrassed than if she’d caught them making out.

“How are we going to find your sister?” he asked. “New York isn’t exactly small.”

“I hired a PI when I started having suspicions about the General. She got scared off and resigned after, um, after my roommate was killed. I think she may have held on some information.”

“What was her name?” Jensen asked. “I’m in the business, maybe I know her.”

“Traci Dinwiddie.”

“Huh.”

Jensen’s face was difficult to read at this moment – his mouth twisted a little, like he’d tasted something unpleasant, but he didn’t frown and the look in his eyes was more thoughtful than anything. Obviously, the name had rung a bell.

“Let me handle this,” he said. “I’ll get you the information you want.”

\---

Jared and Genevieve kept sipping their drinks in silence, while Jensen stepped outside to talk on the phone. Jared could see him through the window, but Jensen had his back on him so Jared didn’t have many clues to how the conversation was going. Jensen was keeping himself still, head nodding from time to time.

Jared’s fingers were damp with the condensation from his beer. He wiped his hand on his jeans.“So, your roommate,” he said.

Genevieve raised her head sharply.

“I’m sorry,” Jared said. “I don’t mean to pry.”

“No, it’s okay. Her name was Kelly. She was a nice girl. She didn’t deserve what happened to her.”

“Were you two close?”

“Not really. We had only been roommates for a few months.” Genevieve sighed, fingers playing idly with her hair. She had one strand wound round her forefinger, dark hair contrasting with pale skin. “I just feel guilty, you know. It’s my fault she died. Whether they wanted to kill me or scare me… it’s my fault.”

“How… what happened?”

“The brakes on the car. They’d been tampered with. We were sharing a car – cheaper that way.” She laughed a little, but it didn’t sound particularly mirthful. “I’ve been taking the subway religiously since then.”

Awkwardness settled as Jared thought frantically of what he should say. ‘Sorry,’ sounded hollow and meaningless.

“So, you and Jensen,” Genevieve said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

Jared startled and the corner of Genevieve’s mouth curled up.

“I don’t know,” he said. It didn’t feel like the truth, not exactly. “I think we’re together. Maybe? Jensen is the complicated type.”

“Transparency, that would mess with anyone’s mind.”

“Yeah, I kinda noticed that,” Jared said.

He couldn’t elaborate because Jensen came back in at that moment. He had his wallet out and took a few bills from it that he tucked under his unopened bottle. “Time to go,” he said, “I have an address.”

“Where?” Jared asked.

“Brooklyn. There’s an apartment there that Traci said the General visited quite a lot the last couple of weeks she was watching him.”

The journey to Brooklyn was long and silent. Their subway car smelled like puke, and there weren’t many people inside but Jared eyed each of them suspiciously: the young, exhausted mother with two toddlers who were trying to drag her in opposite directions; the teenagers hotly arguing in low voices; the old black man with both hands holding his cane firmly in front of him. Everytime someone new came in, a new surge of adrenaline shot through his veins. Genevieve’s talk of her roommate, though it made him admire her for her determination, had also underlined in painful details how dangerous what they were about to do was. They didn’t have any weapons, any leverage, didn’t even have much of a plan.

When their stop came Jared wished he could stay inside and ride the subway all night long.

“We’re there,” Jensen said.

Jared nodded and stood up. On the platform a man was playing the saxophone, and Jared caught Jensen drumming his fingers on his leg to the rhythm. It made him smile, and he felt warmer and less scared all of a sudden. “Do you play?” he asked softly.

“Used to,” Jensen said. “Long time ago.”

They walked the rest of the way to their destination, close to each other by unspoken agreement. Jensen suddenly stopped at a corner and Jared almost bumped into him.

“It’s over there,” Jensen said in a low voice. “In the next street. We should decide what we’re going to do now.”

“We have to see if Katie really is inside,” Genevieve said.

“Let me take care of this,” Jensen said. “I can go through the window while you provide distraction at the door.” He smiled crookedly. “I majored in breaking and entering.”

“You’re insane,” Jared said. “If Katie is inside then there's probably more than one person guarding her.”

“Give me a little credit, Jay. It’s not my first time doing this. Remember what I am? If she’s too well guarded then I’ll just get out. Smooth and easy.”

“You’re not invisible.”

Jensen rolled his eyes. “I know that. I know it better than you do. Can we get a move, now? I’m freezing my ass off.”

Arguing now was useless. “Alright,” Jared said. He glanced in the street – there was no one in sight. “You go first.”

Jensen nodded. “Third floor,” he said, “302.” Then he thrust his hands in his pockets, raised his shoulders like someone who was trying to keep warm, and walked away. Jared and Genevieve waited for a whole minute before they followed.

The hallways in the building were badly lit and smelled like old frying oil. There was a baby crying tirelessly, his wails setting Jared’s nerves on edge. It sounded foreboding, like the child knew something bad was going to happen. When they stopped in front of door 302 Jared was shaking slightly, from the cold or nervous energy.

“What are we gonna say?” he whispered anxiously.

“Let me talk,” Genevieve said, and she knocked on the door before Jared had the time to mentally prepare for it.

They waited for a few seconds, but no one came to the door. Genevieve knocked again, more forcefully. The door half-opened, and a suspicious bearded face appeared.

“What do you want?”

“Hi, sir,” Genevieve said brightly. “We’re sociology majors at Columbia University and we wanted to ask you a few questions for a project-”

“Not interested,” the man said, and started retreating inside.

Jared was quicker, and he had a foot in that kept the door from closing completely. It hurt when the man gave it another push, but he held on. The man’s eyes narrowed. Jared’s heart was pounding but it was like an out body experience, and he didn’t really feel any fear because it wasn’t him, couldn’t be him who was doing something so reckless and stupid. He thought of Jensen inside, and he smiled broadly at the man.

“Please, sir,” he said, sounding so calm, so unlike himself. “We have been working on this project really hard, are you sure you don’t have a few minutes to answer our questions? I swear we won’t be long.”

“Gonna call the police if you don’t move that foot, boy,” the man growled.

Jared doubted the man wanted to involve the police anymore than they did, probably less, but the man’s body was still mostly hidden by the door and Jared was more scared about what he was holding in his other hand.

“I’m sorry if we’re bothering you, it’s just that we’ve been at it for most of the day and we haven’t been very successful. You would do us a huge favor if you-”

He kept babbling, only half-aware of what he was saying as long as it kept the man from going back inside. He knew he didn’t have any chance of convincing the man to answer their questions; he was just trying to gain time. A loud, booming noise interrupted him. His heart leapt in his chest and he caught the barely contained panic on Genevieve’s face. Jensen – even if he wasn’t the origin of the noise, it was going to get him caught. But as tempting as it was to run and rescue him, they wouldn’t have any chance unless they left and decided on a plan.

“Well, uh, I’m sorry we wasted your time, we’re gonna go now…”

He tried to draw his foot back but the man pressed the door a little more to keep it trapped.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “You’re gonna come with me.”

The end of a gun appeared from behind the door, and the man shook it slightly, glancing meaningfully at it. It was like all the blood froze in Jared’s body, making him a statue, and he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Time had stopped. Then it started again suddenly and in a fit of insanity, Jared threw himself at the man.

“Get away,” he yelled to Genevieve. “Run!”

He heard a curse, and was pushed back violently. His head hit the door and he fell on his ass, seeing stars. He heard a gunshot, more curses, and he fumbled with his arms and legs trying to get on his feet, until someone grabbed him by the arm and hauled him up.

“Don’t move, don’t scream or I swear…”

It wasn’t the voice of the man at the door, it was someone else, someone with a faint accent Jared couldn’t identify. He felt something hard press against the small of his back and swallowed.

“Alright,” he croaked.

He was pushed inside and lead to a small living room with a tired-looking couch, a small TV, and a bookshelf that had fallen on the ground, books scattered everywhere. The TV was on, but on mute. Jared didn’t really try to catch what was on the screen, because his attention was captured immediately by the sight of Jensen on the couch, face dark and blood tickling from a cut on his forehead. A young blond woman was sitting next to him, arms crossed on her chest and eyes flickering nervously between Jensen, Jared, and the man with the gun at Jared’s back.

“You alright?” Jared asked Jensen in a low voice.

Jensen nodded, but kept his lips tightly pressed together.

“Shut up. Sit down.”

The man at his back gave him a hard shove and Jared stumbled onto the couch. After he’d turned around to sit properly he could finally see the man with the accent. He looked older than the other one, with his gray hair and the fine lines at the corners of his eyes. He had a bony face with prominent cheekbones, and his skin looked thin and pale, almost translucent, like maybe he was sick or had been recently. Not that it mattered right now; for the moment, he was the man with gun, and he didn’t look like he liked them very much.

Beard Guy came back and it was a relief to see that he didn’t have Genevieve with him. Maybe she was hurt – hopefully not – but at least she’d gotten away and could call for help. Plus, Beard Guy didn’t look happy and that probably meant good things for Genevieve.

Beard Guy tapped on the other man’s shoulder and they stepped apart to speak hurriedly in low voices. They were staying near the only way out of the room, Jared noticed with disappointment.

“What happened?” he asked quietly.

“Fucking bookshelf,” Jensen growled.

“How the fuck did that happen?”

“Don’t know. Stepped on something, lost my balance and grabbed the shelf… bam.”

“It’s me,” said the young woman – probably Katie. “Stuff like that happens around me.”

“Thought you were some kind of lucky charm,” Jensen said. “How was that lucky?”

“One chance in a million things happen around me. Doesn’t mean it has to be good.” Her voice was trembling a little. “I’m sorry I ruined your brilliant rescue, for what it’s worth.”

“Hey!” Jensen started to exclaim; Jared grabbed his wrist in warning before his voice got too loud.

“Did you ever try to escape?” Jared asked. “With your ability… Maybe it’s not always lucky but it would help, no?”

“Of course I tried. Do you think I like being here? But they’re threatening my family, and I know they would do it. They’ve killed a lot of people. I can’t trust my ability to protect my family.”

Jared was about to tell her that Genevieve had escaped and that she was going to come back with help, but the words died in his throat when a third man arrived, holding Genevieve by the hand. He was tall, maybe taller than Jared, and his hand looked huge on Genevieve’s arm. He pushed her and she fell on her knees next to the couch. There wasn’t enough room for her to sit on it so she remained on the floor by Katie’s feet.

“You okay?” Katie asked her softly, burying her fingers in Genevieve’s hair.

Genevieve looked up at her with wet eyes, and nodded without a word. She didn’t look hurt but she was breathing deeply, like she was out of breath but didn’t want to be too obvious about it. She grabbed her sister’s fingers and squeezed hard.

They waited. Jared wasn’t sure what they were waiting for because their three guards weren’t sharing, just looking over them attentively, leaving no room for an escape attempt. After a while Jared started to have some trouble sitting still. He shifted slightly, not wanting to draw attention on him, until his hip was pressed against Jensen’s. Jensen cast him a sharp look.

There was a knock on the door and Old Guy nodded at Tall Guy, who left the room. There was a brief muffled exchange from outside before the door opened again. Jared watched in fascination as the men’s whole demeanor changed – they straightened, lowered their guns and nodded with reverence. This would have allowed Jared to guess the new comer’s identity even if he hadn’t been able to see him.

General Stevens stopped next to Old Guy and whispered something to his ear. The man nodded curtly, and left the room. The General’s look went from Jared to Jensen, to Genevieve on the floor, before coming back to Jared.

“Mr. Padalecki,” he said. “I wish I could say it’s a pleasure to see you again.”

He turned to Tall Guy. “Kill him,” he said, emotionless.

“No!” Jensen yelled.

General Stevens’s pale eyes fell on him. He arched an eyebrow, mildly curious like he’d just found an interesting species of cockroach.

“Mr. Ackles. You’re an elusive man.” He half-smiled, enjoying the taste of some private joke. “Of course, this is exactly why I want you. Oh, and you better not hope that the men guarding you will eventually forget you’re here. They used to guard Colin Finn, they have been selected specially for the task.”

“You don’t want to kill Jared,” Jensen said, “they’ve been to many dead bodies now, people are onto your case.”

“What people? Miss Cortese here? Dear old Aaron?”

“And what about Drapper? Are you gonna kill him too?”

“That psychopath? I don’t need to. The police have him and with all the murders he committed there is no doubt that the death penalty is awaiting him.”

“He’s never gonna admit to Jane White and Bob McMillan’s murders.”

“Who is going to believe him? He killed eight people, another two don’t matter. That’s how the police think. I was very lucky to find him, he made for a nice scapegoat, but he’s not of any use to me anymore.”

Jensen kept arguing, and the General’s feelings were obviously shifting from amusement to annoyance. Jared himself was puzzled, and more than a little worried. Jensen had gone insane, there was no other explanation. Jared was touched that Jensen was trying to save him, but no way this arguing thing would do more than getting the both of them killed. What if General Stevens decided that Jensen’s ability wasn’t worth the trouble, like he’d done with Jane White?

Jared had to say something, had to stop that suicidal thing Jensen had going, but the moment he was going to open his mouth he felt something against his hand. He held his breath; it was fingers, Jensen’s fingers circling around his wrist. Jared was confused until he saw it – images searing through his mind, almost painful, except it wasn’t pain exactly, there’d never been a word for that feeling, like his mind was losing consistence as something foreign was forced into it.

Jensen was communicating with him, Jared understood, letting Jared see into his mind. Jensen who was always afraid of touching Jared for fear of what he could see. He was using Jared’s psychometry to tell him something. No one had ever done that before, and it felt more intimate than usual, in a weird, weird and uncomfortable way. It was difficult to make sense of the images because they were quick and confused, too forceful, like Jensen was trying too hard to pass the message. But Jared finally got the gist of it – Jensen was trying to gain time, to focus attention on him, and he wanted Jared to jump Beard Guy, who was looking through the window, and Jensen himself would jump Tall Guy just after.

It was a crazy plan, but Jared had no way of letting Jensen know that. It was only a one way communication. Besides, Jared figured that he was going to die anyway. He was no use to the General and he knew too much – no way the man was going to let him live. Jared moved his hand so it bumped against Jensen’s thigh to let him know his agreement.

“That’s enough,” the General snapped. “I’m sorry to tell you, Mr. Ackles, that your friend and Miss Cortese are as good as dead, and if you don’t want to meet the same fate I strongly recommend you stop talking.”

“Or what?” Jensen said with a smirk, his tone mocking. “You’re gonna launch your dogs on me?”

The General’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t play with me, young man. I don’t need you as much as you think I do.”

Jensen’s grip on Jared tightened, then he let go. Jared’s heart was lodged somewhere in his throat but he didn’t give himself the time to swallow before he leaped forward. It all happened both very fast and very slowly – he launched himself in the direction of Beard Guy and it felt like the few steps it took to get to him lasted forever. There were some cries – from the other guys, from the General, from the girls, or maybe from Jared himself. It didn’t really matter at that point; it was like Jared had just stepped into an alternate reality where risk didn’t register anymore. He jumped on Bear Guy, pushed away the arm that was holding his gun and kind of fell on the man so that they both hit the floor.

Jared wasn’t much of a fighter. He was tall and strong but he’d never seen the appeal in punching people so he lacked technique. His strategy for the moment consisted mostly in trying to crush the man with his weight and keep him down, but his adversary was struggling fiercely and Jared was losing ground. Then Beard Guy managed to free one of his arms and Jared took a well-placed elbow under his right eye. Pain exploded in his cheekbone and he reflexively moved back, allowing the man to reverse their positions. After a flurry of motions, Jared found himself chest against the ground, with a knee pressed on his back and a gun on his temple.

He blinked a few times to clear off his blurry vision and had a look around. Genevieve and Katie were huddled against each other on the couch, and Katie had a protective arm around her sister’s waist. Jensen was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. He had a hand pressed against his nose and Jared could see blood running down between his fingers. He was scowling in direction of Tall Guy, who had his gun pointing at him, and was cradling his left arm against his stomach.

In the midst of it all, the General was standing straight, fury distorting his face. It was sort of satisfying to see that, Jared thought. At least if they died, it would be after making him lose his infuriating calm.

“Kill them both,” The General said. His voice was shaking slightly. “Kill the journalist too. We’ll find another transparent. We still have the girl.”

Katie was protesting, but Jared wasn’t really listening to her. His eyes met Jensen’s, and it was difficult to say with the hand on his face but it looked like Jensen’s mouth was curving up. Was it a reassuring smile, an apologetic smile? Jared didn’t know, but it woke up his survival instinct. He didn’t want to die, he wanted to see more of Jensen’s smile. He couldn’t die now, not after everything. The hard feel of the gun against his head, the rough carpet against his finger, the smell of blood and… cinnamon? Everything was sharp and in focus, probably the last sparks of a life about to end.

And someone chose that moment to hammer on the door.

“Police! Open the door!”

Hope burned suddenly in Jared’s chest and he couldn’t breathe for fear it was going to vanish. The General paled until it didn’t look like there was any blood left in his face.

“Do it,” he said to his men. “Now.”

He disappeared through the door. Jared didn’t know what good it was going to do him, was he trying to go through a window and use the fire escape? The building was probably surrounded. But this didn’t matter as much as the gun he had pointed on him, and the decision the man who had it was going to make.

Tall Guy and Beard Guy were looking at each other. No need to read minds to guess what they were thinking – cops were pouncing on the door, their boss had obviously abandoned them. Maybe murder wasn’t the best idea.

Men in uniform surged in and the two men simultaneously dropped their weapons and raised their hands behind their heads. The pressure on Jared’s back disappeared and he sagged in relief, cheek against the dirty carpet.

“Jared, you okay?”

Someone grabbed him by the arm and hauled him up. He let himself being manhandled, feeling numb and detached. He was leaning against someone's chest and thought for a moment it was Jensen, but when he turned his head he met Misha’s inquisitive eyes.

“You okay?” Misha asked again. “Do I need to call an ambulance?”

Jared’s mouth opened and closed several times, and he was having trouble getting words out and stringing together a coherent sentence. His ears were kind of ringing.

“Jensen,” he said.

“Who?”

“Is Jared okay?”

It was Malik, in the process of handcuffing Tall Guy. They were both standing right in front of Jensen, still on the floor, but Malik didn’t seem aware of his presence. Jensen’s blood made an ugly contrast to the paleness of his skin, and he didn’t look so good. Jared had to make them see him.

“He’s on the floor,” he said.

The ringing in his ears was getting worse. The world turned dark.

\---

The street was buzzing with activity. Ambulances, police cars, curious bystanders. Jared thought he recognized Old Guy in one of the police cars. He was sitting at the back of an ambulance, where he had woken up a few minutes ago. He felt disoriented, exhausted, and he wanted to know where Jensen was.

“Hey.”

It was Jensen, leaning against one of the ambulance’s doors, like Jared had just called him with the power of his mind.

“Hey yourself,” Jared said.

There was still dried blood on Jensen’s face and his nose looked swollen. Jared grimaced, thinking of how painful it must be.

“Is it broken?” he asked.

“No. Probably got a concussion, though.”

Jensen swallowed carefully, looking like he was trying very hard not to puke.

“Shouldn’t you be in your own ambulance?” Jared said.

Jensen made a slight movement with his shoulders, like he was going to shrug but decided against it. “Everyone is ignoring me. It doesn’t matter. I’m not seriously hurt.” He smiled. “I broke that other guy’s arm, though.”

“You should get examined by a doctor,” Jared said. He got his legs out of the stretcher he had been lying on. “I’ll find someone.”

“No, Jared, no.” Jensen grabbed him by the arm as Jared was about to get out of the ambulance. “I’d really just rather go home now.”

It was the pleading eyes that got to Jared. He’d never seen anything close to a pleading expression on Jensen’s face before.

“Come here,” he said, and when Jensen was closer he curled his hand on the nape of his neck and drew him even closer, until their faces were almost touching. Then he kissed Jensen, long and slow, savoring the taste of him, the feel of his lips, that moment of them being both alive.

“Huh,” Jensen said once they had moved apart. “Hello to you too.”

Jared chuckled lightly, playing with the hem of Jensen’s sleeve. “Just glad we’re both here and more or less in one piece. What happened by the way? How come the police just happened to knock on the right door?”

“Oh, that. It’s Traci. She just called me, wanted to know if I was okay, and she said she’d called the cops.”

“Traci. You mean the PI Genevieve hired?”

“She’s also my coworker. Or my former coworker.” Jared frowned, but Jensen made a dismissive gesture. “I’ll explain later. Anyway, I gave her your cop friends’ number, just in case. You know, that number you oh so sneakily got into my phone even after I told you I wanted nothing to do with the police.”

“Well, it came in handy, didn’t it?”

Jensen was about to reply, but was interrupted by Misha’s arrival. The way the man didn’t even glance in his direction, it was obvious that Misha wasn’t aware of Jensen’s presence.

“Misha,” Jared said before Misha had time to say anything. “Meet my friend Jensen.”

Misha’s face was almost comical, really, with his wide eyes and his mouth open, and there must have been something wrong with Jared because he had to fight a giggle.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Misha said. “I didn’t realize-”

“It’s okay, Misha,” Jared said. “Jensen is a transparent.”

“Really? That’s unusual.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Misha laughed. “Nothing to make you feel less of a freak than another freak, right.” He clapped on Jensen’s shoulder. “Nice to meet you, man. Take it you were probably in that apartment too?”

“Yeah, I was there.”

“Well, I have bad news for you, boys. General Stevens escaped.”

“What?” Jared exclaimed. “But how?”

“Looks like the whole floor belonged to him, and there were doors connecting the apartments. He just got out by another exit.”

“But wasn’t the building surrounded?” Jensen asked. “How could he get out without anyone seeing him?”

Misha sighed. “We’re not sure, but… We have to assume that he had help. That he has people in the police force. But the good news is, now that we have that girl you found, Katie Cassidy, he won’t be able to sleep safely anymore. The kidnapping charge alone, plus everything she can tell us. He’ll go down, I can promise you.”

“And now he can’t rely on any transparent,” Jensen said.

“But he’s gonna try to kill Katie,” Jared said.

“We’ll protect her, don’t worry, Jay. This case is gonna open a nasty can of worms, but we won’t let him get away with it.”

Misha patted Jared on the shoulder, then his eyes fell to where Jared was still holding Jensen’s wrist. He cleared his throat.

“Okay, I’ll let you crazy kids alone.” He nodded at Jensen. “It was nice meeting you, man.”

“Yeah, you too.”

Once he was gone, Jared slid a hand between Jensen’s arm and his waist and onto the small of his back.

“My place?” he asked.

Jensen arched an eyebrow. “Don’t you need to get to the hospital or something?”

“Oh, shut up, please.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jared buried his face against the crook of Jensen’s neck, and just laughed and laughed.

Epilogue

“Bye, mom. Love you too.”

Jensen was lying on Jared’s bed – lately they were always at Jared’s, for some reason – and he watched Jared as he said goodbye to his mother, the soft smile, the dimples. Moved by a sudden impulse to have Jared’s attention on him, he threw a pillow at him. It bumped against Jared’s shoulder, but Jared didn’t give any sign that he had felt it until he had ended the conversation with his mom and lowered his phone.

“You’re an ass, you know that,” he said, but came to sit on the bed next to where Jensen was lying.

“Nah. It’s my sparkling personality. Can be difficult to handle for some people.”

“I’m a saint,” Jared said, before lying down in a slightly twisted position, legs still outside of the bed.

They shared a companionable silence. The more time they spent together, the more Jensen learned to appreciate those silent moments. He had never had anyone to just be quiet with before.

“Hey, Jen.”

Jensen tensed slightly. Jared called him Jen only in specific occasions – during sex, after sex, and when he wanted to get emotional or discuss a difficult topic. The last time they’d had sex was the night before.

“Yeah?”

“You…” Jensen heard the rustle of sheets as Jared moved on the bed. “You never talk about your family.”

It wasn’t a question yet; Jared was trying to ease into the subject. Jensen had expected it, and he knew he was going to have to share something eventually, but he wasn’t about to make it easier for Jared.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Are they… I mean, are they dead? I’m sorry to ask,” he added in a rush, “but I’ve been wondering and since I want you to meet my family and my mom, she’s great but she’s also really curious and she’s going to ask and I wanted to know before-”

“Hey, whoa, whoa, slow down, dude.” Jensen pushed himself up on an elbow to look at Jared. “What was that about meeting your family?”

“Well, not like, right now. But one day, yeah. I already told my mom about you and…”

“Wait, you and your mom talk about me?”

For some reason it had never occurred to him, and it bothered him maybe more than it should. Jared and his mom talking about him behind his back, it gave whatever was between him and Jared a reality outside of just the two of them and that was… Overwhelming.

“Of course, we do,” Jared said. “Once in a while I have to remind her of who you are but, yeah. I tell my mom everything. Everything important, at least.”

“I’m glad I’m so important, but I’m not sure about meeting your parents. I’m not really the meeting-the-parents type.”

“We’ll talk about that later.” Jared’s tone implied that he was going to use this time to gather ammunition. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Ah. No, my parents aren’t dead.”

“Oh, so you guys aren’t talking then?”

“Exactly. We aren’t talking.”

Jared seemed to consider it. Probably for someone who was as close to his family as he was, the concept of not talking to your parents needed some serious examination.

“They must miss you,” Jared said softly.

Jensen huffed a laugh. “I don’t think so, no.” Jared frowned, obviously confused. “Have you forgotten what I am? My parents and I haven’t talked in more than ten years. They don’t remember me.”

Jared’s eyes widened and he sat up on the bed. “What? Your own parents?”

“My ability doesn’t care about genetics, Jay. You’re proof of that – or at least I assume you are, because it would be terribly awkward if we discovered we were related. It’s about the way your brain is wired or something. I left home at sixteen and never looked back.”

“Why? Were they… abusing you?”

Jensen shook his head. “No, nothing like that. I imagine they did their best, considering. I just needed to go.”

“Why won’t you call them?”

“Jared…”

“No, I’m serious. They will remember you if you call them, right? Don’t you think they would want to know that you’re okay?”

“They don’t miss me. It’s painless for them, as long as they don’t remember me they don’t know they forgot.”

“I know what it is to forget you.”

“Yeah, I know you felt guilty, but it was because you _remembered._ They don’t have to feel guilty, not if they don’t know who I am.”

“No, you don’t understand.”

It was Jensen’s turn to frown. “What do you mean?”

“You think forgetting you is like a blank page, that there’s nothing, but it’s not entirely true. Something was missing, I just didn’t know what it was. It was a faint feeling, but I imagine it must be way more powerful for your parents. They miss you; they just don’t know it’s you they miss.”

Jensen didn’t know what to say to that. He had never considered that before, not once. He had assumed that in people’s mind he was there, and then wasn’t, no loss. It made him feel dirty, like he was tweaking with others’ thoughts.

“Besides,” Jared said, “it’s not just about them. It’s also about you. Don’t you miss them?”

\---

Never had Jensen’s heart beaten this hard before a phone call. It was like it was trying to jump up his throat, and he had to sit down on the couch so as not to fall. The phone kept ringing and Jensen didn’t know whether or not he wanted someone to answer.

“Hello?”

It was his mom’s voice. He didn’t know what to say. What could he say after all this time? Hi? Sorry?

“Hello,” he said. “Mrs. Ackles?”

It was weird, calling her like that. Like he was a stranger – which he was, for the moment. Which he maybe still would be even after she remembered him.

“Yes, it’s me. Who’s it?”

“It’s Jensen.”

“Who?”

It didn’t hurt any less now than it did ten years ago, but he forced his voice to stay even. “Jensen Ackles. Your son.”

The other end of the line was silent, but Jensen didn’t need to see his mother to know what kind of emotions she was going through. The slow remembrance, the surprise, the growing horror of realization, the guilt. He heard a choked sob.

“Hey, mom,” he said. “Remember me?”

“Oh, baby, oh, I’m so, I’m _so_ …”

She was crying too hard to speak, and Jensen felt his eyes burn. Damn Jared, he thought, damn him and his stupid advice.

“I shouldn’t have called.”

“ _No!_ ” she almost screamed. “No, don’t hang up, please don’t. How… how are you?”

“Good, I’m good. I, uh, I work for a private investigation agency.” He couldn’t really say that he had resigned and was currently out of a job. Beaver was trying to get him back, sometimes by having Traci call, sometimes by calling himself. Jensen knew he was going to have to do something about it eventually, but that wasn’t something he wanted to discuss with his mother now. What he wanted was to say something that would make her happy, ease a little of the pain he was causing her. “I met someone.”

“Oh? Someone?”

Boy or girl, was the unspoken question. Jensen’s parents had never said much about his bisexuality, probably because they felt it was the least of what was wrong with their son.

“His name is Jared. He’s a student at NYC, he works with the police sometimes – he’s a psychometrist. You would like him.”

“You should bring him home.” She paused. “You should come home. I mean, have lunch with us on a Sunday sometime?”

“I don’t know, mom. I can’t. I think I need time.”

“We’re sorry, you know, your dad and I,” she whispered, so low he could barely hear her. “For everything.”

“It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”

“We’re still sorry. Can you call again on Sunday? I would but…”

“Okay, mom.” He could make her promises, she wouldn’t remember them anyway. She knew that, probably, but she didn’t comment on it.

“Goodbye, honey.”

“Goodbye, mom.”

The phone disconnected and silence fell on Jensen. He sat there with his phone in his hand, until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey.”

Jared sat next to him, shoulders and hips and knees touching. He didn’t try to make any other gesture of comfort, but for all the kissing, licking, sucking, fucking Jensen had done in his life, Jared being close to him like that felt disturbingly intimate.

“You okay?” Jared asked quietly.

“Yeah.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t know. Not right now.”

“Okay.”

There was a long silence, longer than Jensen thought Jared could keep without talking, and it stretched until Jensen felt the sudden need to break it.

“She told me to call her again on Sunday.”

“Good. You gonna do it?”

“I think so.” Jensen paused. “Tell me it’s gonna be okay.”

“Of course. It’s gonna be okay, Jen.”

“I’m a fucking pain in the ass.”

“I know.” Jared nudged him with his elbow. “Part of your charm.”

“But what if…”

“Hey.” This time, Jared punched him in the arm, hard enough to make Jensen wince. “Stop freaking out. What’s the worse that could happen, huh? That you keep not talking to them like you’ve done for the last ten years? But if it goes well, you’ll have your family again. I think it’s worth it.”

“Yeah. I guess I’m not used to thinking about the future.”

“Yeah. About that…”

Jared cleared his throat. Jensen turned his head to look at him, and saw him bit his lip nervously, head bent down and avoiding eye contact.

“What?”

“I’ve been thinking about it – about the future, I mean. And, uh. I got an idea.”

Jensen waited. Jared was scratching to back of his head, looking down on his knees, and Jensen felt his insides twist a little when it looked like Jared wasn’t aware of him anymore.

“Are you gonna get it out or do I have to beat you into talking?”

“Oh.” Jared raised his head to look at Jensen. “I was thinking we could open a private investigation agency. You know, together. After I graduate, of course.”

Jensen couldn’t find anything to say. He was trying to wrap his mind around what Jared was proposing, and Jared seemed to take his silence as a cue to keep talking. “We would make a good team, you and me – we made a good team on that case. It’s not just that I want to work with you – though I do, I really do – but it’s also that your ability and mine, they would complement each other well on an investigation. We would rock at that, I know we would.” He took a deep breath. “Jensen? Say something. What d’you think?”

“I…” Jensen’s mouth opened and closed like a goddamn goldfish.

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s not like I’m proposing or something,” Jared said.

He tried to smile but it died away, and he just kept looking anxiously at Jensen.

“I don’t know,” Jensen said. “It’s not that I don’t wanna work with you, but… It’s gonna be awkward as hell when we break up.”

Jared frowned, and Jensen realized right away that he’d just put his fucking foot in his mouth.

“I mean, _if_ we break up,” he said quickly. “ _If_ , alright? Now stop giving me that look.”

Jensen was expecting Jared to snap at him or something, to get angry with Jensen for always expecting the worst, always painting things in black, but Jared unexpectedly broke into a broad smile that split his face in two.

“You said ‘break up’,” he said.

“Yes, and? You need me to get out my dictionary for you?”

“You said _break up._ Does it mean we’re together?”

 _Oh._ Jensen hadn’t thought about it like that. He hadn’t thought about it at all, it had just happened when he wasn’t looking, kind of sneaked up on him. He’d never been with anyone, like together _together,_ but he looked at Jared, who was beaming like it was Christmas and his birthday wrapped up together in one shiny package, and, well.

“I guess so,” he said. He scratched his nose. “Don’t, uh, go on expecting flowers and candle-lit dinners, but yeah. I guess we’re together.”

Jared chuckled and leaned against Jensen until he felt warm breath tickle his neck. There was a hand sliding under the back of his shirt, fingers curling around his side, and it was strange, unusual, a touch under his clothes that didn’t feel sexual, only affectionate. It freaked him out a little, how easy for him it was to accept that from Jared.

“About the agency thing,” Jared said, nuzzling against his ear. “Just think about it, okay? It won’t happen anytime soon, anyway, not until I’m done with school. Nothing is decided yet. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Jensen closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the contact, the affection. The feeling of being well-anchored in the world and no longer floating like a leaf in the current.

“I don’t know why you want to become a PI anyway,” he said after a moment. “As a general rule, it’s rare to have as much action as we had with the General case. And anyway, I didn’t think you’d want to live through something like that again.”

“I don’t know, it woke up my sense of adventure, I guess.” Jared straightened and the look on his face was suddenly more serious. “The General is still out there. If he can, he’s gonna be after us, that’s for sure. After Genevieve and Katie, too. I’ll be ready for that.”

“Isn’t it the job of the police to worry about that?”

“Thought you didn’t trust the police?” Jared smiled. “Don’t worry, I won’t do anything stupid. I’m just starting to figure what I wanna do with my life, and I think that’s it. And hopefully, it will be with you.”

Something twisted painfully inside of Jensen, but he didn’t want to examine that feeling too closely.

“Well, we’ll see about that,” he said, lightly enough that Jared could take it as a joke.

“Asshole,” Jared said.

“You know you love it.”

“In your dreams, Ackles, in your dreams.”

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, thank you for reading my story. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. This fic was a challenge in many ways - first time writing RPS, first time writing slash, first time writing something that is centered around a romantic relationship (not mentioning that I broke my own record for a word count in English!). I'm a gen writer, and primarily a gen reader too. I have little taste for romance. The reason I wrote this was precisely to get out of my comfort zone, and it was a challenge sometimes to have to write a dynamic I'm not used to.
> 
> This was also an ambitious story in terms of world building and plotting, and I hope I didn't disappoint on those fronts. The starting point of this story was the concept of transparency, as presented in the French sci-fi book series called Les Futurs Mystères de Paris by Roland C. Wagner (I don't think the books have ever been translated in English, but if you read French I recommend them!). I wanted to write my own take on a character with that kind of ability, in a world close to our own.
> 
> This story wouldn't be what it is without the works of my betas, galathea_snb and ariadnes_string, and their precious comments. They deserve all my gratitude for making this story as good as it could be!
> 
> And of course, I have to thank my artist, mishaganminion, for her lovely art. Edit: I guess I should link the art here too *facepalm*: http://mishaganminion.livejournal.com/30019.html#cutid1


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